


Let Me Touch You Where Your Heart Is

by kassio



Series: Just Give Me a Reason [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Famous Harry, M/M, Musician Harry, Musician Niall, Non-Famous Louis, Professor Louis, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-02-18 20:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 38,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13107606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kassio/pseuds/kassio
Summary: When Louis Tomlinson slept with Harry Styles, he was sure it was just a one-night stand. Harry was a famous British musician on tour. Louis was a settled-down college professor in America. It was obvious that nothing long-term would ever happen.Logic says that their one night together should be nothing more than a sweet memory. Months later, neither man's heart seems to have gotten that memo.A sequel toCaught My Attention.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, friends! A few notes.
> 
> First of all, this is a sequel to [Caught My Attention](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12535424), which was written for the delightful [50 Reasons to Have Sex](http://50reasons.tumblr.com) Challenge. Please start there!
> 
> Second: a million thank yous to [elsi-bee](elsi-bee) and aslowmotionaccident for beta-ing! You are my heroes.
> 
> Third: I'm posting this as a WIP! I didn't want to leave people hanging for many months after Caught My Attention, so I'm going to try something new and release this as I go along. ~~I assure you that I'll make every effort to finish this. Well do I know the pain of a beloved WIP that never gets resolved. I won't do you like that. This puppy is all outlined and I have a solid plan. What I don't have is a timeline. I anticipate posting at least one chapter per month, maybe two if things go well. It should be complete sometime between March and May.~~ April 15 - it's done! Hey, I estimated correctly!
> 
> Fourth: The first part of this story was written for the 50 Reasons to Have Sex challenge, so sex was a big part of it. In part two, there will be a couple explicit sex scenes, but smut won't be the focus going forward. Sorry if anyone's disappointed! Smut's quite hard for me to write and I just don't have it in me to put 10k words of sex in here.
> 
> Fifth: most of my stories have been written with British spelling. This one isn't, mostly because part one was a pinch hit and I didn't have time to get it Britpicked. My justification is that it's set mainly in Boston and the main character has been living in America for many years.
> 
> Finally: standard disclaimer - this is a work of fiction, don't repost this, don't show it to anyone affiliated with the band/the guys

It had been a hell of a day.

It was the kind of day that made Louis question everything about his life. There had been an epic staff meeting which was an always-delightful mixture of soul-crushing boredom, petty bickering, and maybe one actually important issue which was left too late and dropped too soon. His students had been squirrelly in class and his teaching periods seemed to drag on forever. He’d had to argue with some pissant undergraduate who thought he somehow deserved a B on a test he’d completely bombed because he never came to class. Then he’d spent his afternoon managing graduate students, trying to keep their projects from going off the rails and wasting his grant money. To cap it all off, he’d had to scramble to finish some bullshit online safety courses that the university had been nagging him about for weeks. And in the middle of _that_ he’d had to deal with one of his best students coming to him in tears because some professor in the math department had said some shit about women’s brains not being as suited to technical fields.

He was supposed to be a _scientist._ And yet he hadn’t seen the inside of the lab in – how long? A week?

When he finally got home far too late in the evening, he cracked open a brew, popped a frozen dinner into the microwave, and settled in for some relaxing fucking-around-on-the-internet. He read web comics and a few interesting articles, then hopped over to Twitter. The American Geophysical Union had been posting some bullshit tweets about bullshit pseudoscience _again_ – annoying – but that did mean he got to drag them on Twitter again – excellent.

Then, suddenly, his fingers were possessed by evil spirits. Or something. That was the only reason why he typed “Harry Styles” into the search bar on top of Twitter. He didn’t do it of his own volition because he wasn’t some kind of obsessed weirdo. It just happened. It was out of his control.

It was stupid anyway. Harry’s last tweet was from months ago, and it was a terse sentence thanking everyone for coming to see his last show. Since the tour had ended, he had been lying low. There were hardly ever new pictures of him on social media. Louis unfortunately knew this because, at least once a week, he found himself _compelled by evil spirits_ to search for Harry news on Twitter.

He didn’t know why he did it, curled up on his couch with a heavy ache in his chest, staring at the man he’d had for one incredible night. He’d thought he’d known what he was getting himself into that evening. He’d had no idea how special Harry actually was. He’d had no idea how hard it would be to get over him.

Sometimes it felt like it had all been a dream. He had no mementos, nothing to prove that it had happened. All he had were memories and a deep, painful longing. He was so damn busy that he could forget it most of the time, but then he’d see a picture of Harry on some tabloid magazine cover, or he’d hear one of his songs on the radio. It was impossible to forget entirely when the world kept rudely reminding him of Harry’s existence.

And every time it did, he had the same argument with himself:

_I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve woken him and said goodbye properly. Or I should’ve at least left my number._

_No. Absolutely not. Then I would’ve just been waiting for him to call in agony and suspense, and he never would, and then I’d be so disappointed. No._

_But there was always that tiny chance that he’d call…_

_Of course not. It wasn’t like that. He could have anybody. I would never be the one he picked. Anyway, our lives are completely incompatible. It couldn’t happen._

_God, I wish I’d left my number._

He rubbed his chest. It didn’t loosen the tight knot deep inside of him. Okay. He needed to pull himself together. Click out of Harry’s profile. Go find some of the pseudoscience idiots to troll. That would make him feel better.

A new notification appeared. He clicked on it, wondering if the AGU had responded to him already.

_@Harry_Styles started following you._

He was so startled, he fumbled his phone, sending it flying and then spinning away across the hardwood floors.

Oops.

Harry had followed him on Twitter? No, that definitely didn’t happen. Surely he’d imagined it. It made no sense for Harry to follow him on Twitter ever, but definitely not now, months after Harry’s Boston show and the one night they’d spent together. Why _now?_ There was no reason, so it couldn’t be true.

His phone started quietly chiming with more notifications. He stared at it. Then he threw a cushion at it. All that did was bump it and send it knocking into the wall. Shit.

After a few minutes of panic, he went and picked the stupid thing up. There was a nice new crack running across his screen. Great. Bizarrely, he already had a bunch of Harry fan accounts tweeting him to ask why Harry had followed him.

And then, lower down in his notifications, it was still there.  

_@Harry_Styles started following you._

“What the hell am I supposed to do about this?” he asked out loud.

He turned off his phone and tried drinking a beer and watching telly for a bit, but it didn’t help. He couldn’t stop wondering what this meant, and, most of all, why.

It was difficult because Louis was a talker, but he had no one to talk to about this. The only person in his life who really knew he’d met Harry was his sister Lottie. She was the one who’d gotten him tickets to the show and insisted that he go meet her friend Niall, the frontman of the concert’s opening band.  She knew that Louis had hung out after the show with Niall, Harry, and their respective bandmates, but that was all she knew. He’d promised Harry he wouldn’t kiss and tell, and he hadn’t. Not that he was going to brag to his little sister about his one-night stand anyway.

Still, she knew they’d met. Unfortunately, it was the middle of the night in England. He couldn’t call her.

There was one other person who knew and whose number Louis had: Niall Horan. Louis had only met him under duress from his sister but the two of them had gotten along surprisingly well. They’d exchanged numbers that night and they still texted regularly. Louis had even seen him once in the intervening months since they first met. They were reasonably good friends, he thought, at least as good as they could be considering their busy lives and the fact that they hardly saw each other.

He had no idea what time zone Niall was in at the moment, but he figured that a single text was probably harmless, so he wrote, _Harry just followed me on Twitter._

 _For real? That’s weird,_ Niall wrote back a minute later.

_Is it?_

The next message took a little longer. _Yah his twitter’s p much all promo these days right? His PR does it._

Louis was dumbstruck. He eventually managed to write back, _I don’t know how to deal with this._

His phone started ringing with a call from Niall. Confused, he answered. “Hey?”

“Why are you freaking out about a Twitter follow?” Niall asked.

“Uh, I mean, it’s just weird. I’m not freaking out,” Louis said defensively.

“Right.”

“I’m not!”

There was a long moment of silence from Niall. Then he said, “Mate, don’t take this the wrong way, but did you sleep with Harry that night? Because that would explain a lot.”

“Shit,” Louis swore as he fumbled and nearly dropped his phone again. “What? I – um, no. Why would you even ask that?”

“I’m just trying to figure out, one, why he would follow you out of the blue after all this time, and two, why you’d be freaking out about it. I kind of thought there’d been something going on that night, but then neither of you ever said anything about it, so I wasn’t sure.”

“Jesus,” Louis said. “No, nothing happened. But, hypothetically, if it had, he probably would have asked me not to say anything about it.”

“So, you slept together, and then he followed you months later? Hmm. Yeah, that seems like Harry. Couldn’t just call you up and use his words like a normal person. He’s probably like, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this guy, so I’ll just casually follow him on Twitter and see what happens. Can you hear me rolling my eyes?”

Louis laughed shortly. “Basically. Huh. That’s… I mean, that seems so unlikely, though. I’m surprised he even remembers me. Maybe he just enjoys my humorous-yet-enlightening science outreach tweets.”

“Yeah, that’s probably it.”

“I can hear you rolling your eyes again.” Louis pondered in silence for a moment. “So what should I do?”

“You should follow him back, obviously.”

“How, obviously? It’s not obvious.”

“Oh my god. You wouldn’t be this weird about it if you never wanted to hear from him ever again. So follow him back and see what happens next. It’s simple.”

“Simple. Sure.” Louis very much doubted that. “Hey, where are you now, anyway?”

“Thailand, man! I was just sitting in my hostel trying to decide where to get lunch when I saw your text.”

“Oh, wow.”

“Yeah, I needed to have some fun after getting off tour, you know? Get away from that circus and just be normal again. Anyway, I’m hungry, think I’m going to head out. You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, thanks, mate. Have a good one.”

Taking a deep breath, Louis navigated to Harry’s Twitter profile and followed him.

And nothing happened.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Louis felt like death warmed over. He’d slept restlessly, tossing and turning, struggling to fall into a deep sleep. He’d lay there for long minutes, sternly telling himself that it was time to sleep and not to check his phone. Then he’d check his phone again. 

He started to lose hope when an entire day passed with no message from Harry, and then another. It seemed that the follow really had been meaningless. He tried to put it out of his mind. He went to work, and got charming vacation photos from Niall by text, and otherwise went about his life.

It bothered him, though. Was Harry ever going to message him? Had he really just been interested in Louis’ tweets as an educator or as an acquaintance? Was Louis supposed to do something? Was this, somehow, a test?

As he drove his sad old car through the Boston streets, he thought to himself that if Harry were in any way interested in him, then it was up to Harry to make the first move. That just made sense. Harry was _so_ wildly out of his league that anything else was absurd.

As he showered the day off back at his flat, he thought about Harry saying _I’m just a person._ If someone had slept with _him_ and then snuck off in the morning without a word or even a note, he’d certainly assume that man wasn’t interested in anything more. It was certainly true that he’d given Harry no indication that he’d ever want to see him again.

But Harry should just know that anyone would consider themselves lucky to have his attention. He should just know that Louis hadn’t left his number only because it was so inconceivable that _Harry_ would ever want to see him again.

He paced around his flat on the weekend, turning it over and over in his mind. It was surely the absolute height of arrogance to think that Harry Styles was just waiting around for Louis to tweet him. It was surely insane to think that a Twitter follow counted as a “first move” to which he should respond with a “second move.”

It was surely driving him insane trying to puzzle this out.

“Oh, fuck it,” he said out loud and stomped over to his phone. He tweeted the first thing that came to mind and fired it off.

**@Harry_Styles got your fans asking why you followed me. It was because you’re also mad about @theAGU tweeting about earthquake lightning right???**

He headed off to the gym after that. He was going to be full of nervous energy unless he did something about it – or unless Harry tweeted him back, he supposed, but who know when or even if that would happen.

He was climbing off the treadmill when his phone beeped. Then it beeped again, and again, and again. He fumbled to turn it to silent, but then it just kept vibrating almost as loudly.

“Crap, crap, sorry,” he muttered, scrambling to completely silence it as people shot annoyed looks his way. Then he drifted over to a nearby bench as he navigated to his Twitter app. There were dozens of notifications; the most recent ones at the top were all Harry fan accounts, demanding to know who he was or screaming excitedly. Harry tweeting a pun was a momentous occasion, apparently, and they had him to thank for it, apparently.

**@ProfLouisTommo  don’t drag me into a twitter fight with geophysics. That would be shocking… earth shaking even…**

Louis stared at the screen. Harry had tweeted him. Okay. That wasn’t much of a pun – he really didn’t get why these girls were so excited – but it was an attempt at humor, which was probably good. Okay.

Well, this workout was over. His focus was shot.

After he’d showered and changed, he started walking home and decided to throw caution to the wind and message Harry directly, sending a simple _Hi._

Harry wrote back a few minutes later: _Hi._

 _Your fans are blowing up my Twitter. How did they even know?_ Louis wrote.

_I think there are programs that people use to track Twitter activity… Sorry. I wasn’t thinking._

Louis quickly answered, _It’s okay. I’m not actually annoyed !_

He kept his eyes glued to the screen as he walked. Finally, another message appeared from Harry: _It’s why I don’t really use twitter anymore. Mostly it’s just my publicist on here. Would’ve called but I didn’t have your number…_

Would have called? Ouch. So Louis definitely had been a fool not to leave his number after all. Well, at least he could take a hint now. _All you had to do was ask !_ , he typed back, and then followed up with his phone number.

His mobile rang shortly thereafter. Suddenly nervous, he had to stop and take a few deep breaths before he answered the unknown number with a polite, “Hello?”

“Hi, um, it’s Harry.” His voice was unmistakable even through the imperfect mobile connection.

“Hi,” Louis breathed.

“Hi,” Harry said again. He laughed. It rang hollow, like he was nervous too. “Um, how are you?”

“Good, good. Uh, I was just at the gym, but I’m walking home now. Almost back to my flat.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It’s all right. How’re you?”

“Fine. I’m in Amsterdam at the moment. It’s nice.”

“Sick,” Louis said approvingly. “Love Amsterdam. Are you there for work?”

“No, you know, it’s one of those cities where I’ve been on tour but never really got to actually see, so. I’m doing that.” He cleared his throat. “Um, but I’m actually going to be in Boston next week, for work? And, um, maybe you'd want to have dinner?”

Suddenly, Louis’ heart was racing. “You want to have dinner with me?”

“Yeah, if we can make it work? And if you want to.”

“Of course,” Louis said, pressing a hand to his chest and willing his heart to calm. “When are you here?”

“I’m free next Tuesday and Wednesday nights. I have to be up really early on Thursday, though, so Tuesday might be better.”

“Ah. I have a seminar that goes kind of late Tuesday night,” Louis said regretfully. “I don’t get out until nine. Wednesday, technically I’m done about four.”

Harry was quiet for a moment. “Maybe Wednesday, then? Five or six o’clock?”

“Sure. Ah, what did you have in mind?”

“I don’t really know yet. I wasn’t sure… well, I didn’t plan anything yet. I’ll have my assistant find someplace that’ll work and text you? I mean, I’ll text you, not I’ll have my assistant text you.”

“Okay,” Louis said softly. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you, then.”

After they hung up, he dutifully saved Harry’s number in his contacts, then stared at the entry in giddy disbelief. He had daydreamed about this, but he never thought it would happen. He was actually going to see Harry again. It was hard to sort out how he felt. Doubt, excitement, fear, and happiness swirled and confused him. One thought rose to the forefront of his mind, one that made him laugh aloud at himself: _I hope he lets me kiss him again._

 

* * *

 

Louis followed Harry’s directions to a rather grand building right on the river. At the front desk, he checked in and was escorted up the stairs to a large dining room. It was probably a very nice room. He honestly couldn’t have said, because the moment he spotted Harry, it was as if everything else fell away.

He walked through the room with his blood pounding in his ears. It all felt surreal. There was Harry, smiling at him, happy to see him. His hair was short now, not curling around his chin like it had been when Louis went to his concert. He wore a simple black button-down. It was a fairly conservative look aside from the heavy rings on every finger. He looked classy and confident and gorgeous.

“Hi,” Louis said as he approached the table.

“Hey,” Harry beamed. He stood, and before Louis fully understood what was happening, Harry had placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss his cheek. It was quick and light, the tiniest peck, but Louis still had to work to suppress a gasp. “Thanks for coming,” Harry continued as he stepped back and took his seat.

Louis slid into his own seat and thanked heaven that his complexion had never been prone to showing a blush. “Yeah, of course. How’re you?”

Harry hummed thoughtfully as he picked up a menu. “I’m good. I had a bit of time off recently, which was nice. But we should probably order before I start rambling.”

“Ha, all right.”

Louis honestly did try to focus on the menu, but it was proving difficult when there was something (someone) so much more interesting to look at. He kept glancing up to watch the tiny expressions that Harry made as he studied the menu. Then he remembered that he was supposed to be ordering and looked down at a menu which looked entirely new every time, recalling nothing of the few lines he had read before he looked up.

Of course he was staring at Harry when the other man looked up from his menu. Louis glanced down quickly, but he knew he’d been caught. He quickly pulled his menu up in front of his face and muttered, “That didn’t happen.”

“Don’t make it weird,” Harry snickered.

“Oh my god.” Louis looked up at him in exasperation. He remembered the last time Harry had said that to him. He’d been sitting in Harry’s lap at the time. Judging by Harry’s smirk, he remembered it just as well. “Well, don’t make me think about that if you don’t want it to be _weird,_ you bastard.”

“I mean, is that weird, or is it…” Harry waggled his eyebrows.

“You’re terrible. Stop distracting me from this fascinating menu.”

“Oh, okay. Should I, like, go outside then, or…”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “This is a lot of confidence suddenly from a man who tried to get my attention with a Twitter follow.”

Harry flipped his menu up to hide his face behind it, but not quickly enough to hide a faint flush on his cheeks. "Well, it worked, didn’t it.”

“Shh, let me order. Maybe keep that menu there,” Louis laughed. His eyes fell on some steak entrée that sounded good enough. He decided that would have to do; he didn’t have the patience or focus to carefully consider all the items. As soon as their menus were down, a waiter came to take their orders and bustled away as quickly as he came.

“Soooo,” Louis said.

Harry nodded. “So.”

Louis twisted in his chair and looked around, taking in the large, mostly-empty dining room. “What is this place, anyway?”

“It’s a private club. They’re good for going out without it being a big deal. It’s members-only and they have rules about privacy – like, if someone took a picture of us and shared it around, they could actually get kicked out of the club, so they won’t.” Harry grinned and leaned in to whisper, “Plus, it’s mostly rich old people who don’t care who I am anyway.”

Louis’ eyes widened. “Wait, you didn’t join this club just so we could have dinner, did you?”

“Oh, no. There’s like a whole network of these where if you’re a member at one then you can go to all of them.”

“Huh.”

Their waiter returned with the wine Harry had ordered, pouring each of them a glass of a crisp white. Louis took a sip and steeled himself to ask the question that was nagging at him. “All right, I’ve just gotta ask. This _is_ a date, right?”

“Um, yeah. That was my intention, yeah.”

“Okay, good.” Louis sighed in relief. “I thought so, but then I was like, I must be some kind of egomaniac thinking _you_ were asking me out. So, good.”

“So that’s okay?” Harry asked uncertainly, fingers fiddling with the edge of his napkin on the table.

“Well, yeah. Very okay.”

Harry looked down. “I wasn’t sure you’d even want to see me again.”

The very idea was outrageous. “Are you serious? Of course I would.”

“You might be surprised how many people just want a conquest. I didn’t really get that vibe from you, but.” Harry’s eyes flicked up briefly to meet his. “Then you left without even saying goodbye, so.”

Louis rubbed his lips and wondered how honest to be. “I’m sorry about that. It just seemed impossible that you’d want to see _me_ again. I didn’t want to leave my number and then be sad that you never called. I didn’t want to be, like… desperate and annoying. But, uh, I’ve been kicking myself for that ever since.”

There was a tentative smile on Harry’s lips. “Really?”

“On a pretty regular basis, if you must know. Let’s move on.” Louis rubbed his hands together. “Okay. So that’s all established. Um. Date talk, what do people talk about on dates? God, it’s been way too long.”

Harry laughed. “Like I know. Well, how’s this term been going for you? How’s your research?”

So they talked. Louis told him about his work, and the students who were driving him crazy, and how annoying the Boston winter was. Harry told him stories from tour and talked about how he’d written a few songs lately but wasn’t really sure where his next album would go.

It was fun. Their conversation rambled along, light and easy. He’d forgotten how easy Harry was to talk to. He was interested in what Louis said and witty and so damn _cute._ He worked stupid puns in at every opportunity and was delighted by strange, random things. It was probably one of the best first dates Louis had ever had. A part of him was waiting for the catch. He would have been concerned about Harry being too good for him – too handsome, too charming – even if he had a normal job. Instead, he was Harry Styles, wealthy international popstar, who _didn’t even live anywhere near Boston._ The fact that this date was happening made no sense, really. Luckily Louis didn’t mind a bit of absurdity in his life.

They had been at the table for a good two hours, plates long since cleared away, when they finally confronted the fact that they should probably leave at some point. Harry pushed the dessert menu around and asked, “Should we get something for dessert?”

Louis tapped at his chin and considered how blunt to be. Well, fuck it. “That depends.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “On?”

“On whether I want to end this night too full to move and having to be rolled back to my apartment, or whether I need to be ready for some physical activity.”

Harry smiled slowly. “Oh. I see. Well. We could order something to go.”

“Very clever,” Louis nodded. “I like the way you think.”

Harry ordered a slice of cake and slyly paid the bill before Louis could even try to get a hand on it. Then he stood and looked suddenly uncertain. “Um, so…”

“Do you want to come back to my place?” Louis offered. He had cleaned it in a fit of reckless optimism so it was actually suitable for company. “I’m sure it’s not as nice as wherever you’re staying, but—”

“No, that sounds great. I’d like that,” Harry interrupted.

“Okay. Should I text you my address?”

“Yeah, sure. But I could just ride over with you, if you don’t mind? Otherwise I have to call a car and wait, so…”

“Oh, well, I just took the T here. It seemed easier than driving downtown. My place is pretty easy to get to on the train, but I’m guessing that’s not really going to work for you.”

Harry shrugged and sat back down. “Might work, but I don’t think I want to risk it. I’ll just call us a car?”

“Yeah, all right.”

They chattered inconsequentially during the short ride, Louis pointing things out as they passed and Harry asking polite questions about the city.  Somehow, whatever feature Louis wanted to highlight was always out Harry’s window, which naturally required him to lean over and brush their shoulders together, or brace a hand on Harry’s arm, to point helpfully out the window. Harry caught on after a few minutes. With a grin, he leaned far over into Louis’ space, resting a warm hand on Louis’ knee so he could peer out his window. He was close enough that Louis could smell his cologne.

It had been a long time since he’d experienced any of this: the date, the flirting, the electric anticipation of bringing someone home. He had no idea where this was going long-term, but in the short term, he was sure that a nice evening was about to turn into a spectacular one.

And unlike most first dates, he was already sure that the sex was going to be _great._ There was something relaxing about the thought that they’d been here before. Nothing about this needed to be weird or scary – it was going to be brilliant.  

They kept touching each other for the rest of the ride. It was subtle, something easily explained away if anyone could even see them through the tinted windows, but the meaning behind it all was unmistakable. Louis was giddy and more than a little turned on by the time they arrived. The street outside the small brick apartment building was quiet, and the halls inside were empty. No one spotted Harry as they made their way to Louis’ apartment, giggling and brushing up against each other.

As soon as they stepped through the door, the mood shifted. Louis pinned Harry up against the wall and finally brought their lips together in a heated kiss. Harry inhaled sharply, startled, but quickly kissed back as good as he got. Louis licked into Harry’s mouth, desperate to taste him, to feel him. Harry grabbed his ass to pull their bodies tightly together, and Louis gasped, “I’m gonna climb you like a tree.”

Harry laughed and kissed him hard again before pulling back to say, “You weren’t like this last time.”

“Yeah, well, last time I was all intimidated and confused,” Louis said, running his hands down Harry’s body. “Also I hadn’t spent months celibate after having really great sex with an incredibly fit man. Sue me for being eager. Can we get naked now?”

Harry started struggling out of his shirt, not letting his lips leave Louis’ until the last possible moment. “Celibate? What, you haven’t been with anyone else since?” he asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Don’t be smug about it. I can’t just get on Grindr, there’s students on there,” Louis grumbled, unbuckling Harry’s belt.

“Neither can I,” Harry pointed out. “Take your shirt off.”

“I do have—” Louis began as he threw his shirt on the floor. His words were cut off when Harry grabbed him and pulled him for another kiss. Their bodies were pressed together, skin on skin, Harry’s tongue in his mouth. Then Harry started grinding against him, rolling his hips up against Louis, which reminded him of what he had been trying to say. Snogging Harry was so much better than talking, though.

After long minutes of kissing and grinding that had them both panting and hard, Harry shifted his focus, lickng down Louis’ neck. Louis groaned at the sensation and finally managed to gasp out, “I do have a bed, you know.”

Harry hummed against his skin. “What d’you need a bed for?” he teased, nipping at the skin of Louis’ shoulder. “You didn’t seem to care much for the bed last time.”

Louis ran his hands along Harry’s waist. “Who cares about that bed. I want you in _my_ bed. I want to spread you out on my sheets and do unspeakable things to you.”

“You’ve got a dirty mouth.”

“Mm-hmm,” Louis said, giving Harry another quick kiss. He stepped back and grabbed Harry’s hands, pulling him along. “You know I do, and I think you like it.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispered like it was a secret, following Louis through the living room.

Once they reached the bedroom, Louis dropped Harry’s hand to toss back his duvet and take off his trousers. Harry stripped out of the last of his clothes and hopped onto Louis’ bed, running his hands over the sheets and looking around curiously. “This is nice.”

Louis snorted. “Yeah, thanks. It’s tiny and everything except for the mattress is from IKEA.”

Harry bounced experimentally. “Why not the mattress?”

Louis crawled over and straddled Harry’s legs, pushing him back against the pillows. “Okay, forget about my furniture. I'm sorry I brought it up. Focus on what matters here.”

“No, please, I’m just dying to know—” Harry began. Louis leaned down and silenced him with a kiss. Harry kissed back hungrily, a sudden, beautiful desperation in the way his hands rushed impatiently over Louis’ body and pulled him close. He begged, “Touch me, please.”

Louis wasted no time getting his hand wrapped around Harry. He was entirely hard already, hot and thick in Louis’ grip, and he whimpered at the touch.

“Wanna finger you,” Louis said, watching his face. “Can I?”

“God, yes.”

Louis had to shift and lean over to get the lube from his bedside table. Harry kept a hand on his thigh like he couldn’t bear to not be touching him for an instant. Louis quickly squeezed some lube out onto his fingers, laid back down next to Harry, and kissed him as he slid the first finger in. It didn’t take long at all to work up to two fingers. “Love how you open up for me,” he murmured, kissing down Harry’s neck. “So easy.”

Harry moaned loudly at that. Louis had to hide a smile in Harry’s shoulder.

He experimented then – with the tempo, the angle, where to press, how to twist his fingers – trying to figure out what Harry liked. In between kisses, he watched Harry’s face for clues. He was gorgeous when Louis really got him going, clutching desperately at Louis, frowning and moaning and kicking his legs like he couldn’t control his body.

Harry’s eyes fluttered open. “Lou,” he said breathlessly.

“Yes, beautiful?”

“Are you—” Harry gasped and struggled to speak. “Are you – gonna fuck me?”

Louis couldn’t resist rolling his body against Harry, rubbing his cock against Harry’s hip. “You want that?”

Harry nodded, his eyes wide.

“Well, see. I want to finger you until you can’t handle it anymore and I make you come all over yourself. I’ve been thinking about it for months, how much I want to drive you crazy with just my fingers.”

“Oh, god,” Harry moaned. He spread his legs wider.

“That’s it,” Louis murmured, pressing against his prostate and watching him gasp.

Harry’s hand fumbled down the bed and wrapped clumsily around Louis’ cock. Louis groaned appreciatively and leaned in to mouth at Harry’s shoulder, muffling his noises against him. He started sucking on Harry’s skin, gently at first, to see if Harry would let him leave a mark. Harry didn’t push him away. If anything, he seemed into it, gasping and moaning louder than before.

Louis pulled his head up to the survey the mark he’d left, blotchy red blooming on Harry’s shoulder. Then he shifted his gaze to Harry’s face. “You’re so hot,” he said admiringly as he continued to work his fingers in and out. “So ridiculously fit. You feel good? Are you going to come for me?”

“Yeah,” Harry gasped. He reached down with his free hand to grab his dick and start tugging on it.

“Jesus, look at you,” Louis swore. Harry with one hand on Louis’ cock and the other on his own was a hell of a sight. He redoubled his own efforts, pleasuring Harry with his fingers until Harry suddenly went tense, muscles jumping and face twisting, and came. He gasped and trembled as Louis worked him through it, finally pushing Louis’ hand away when it became too much.

His grip on Louis had slackened as his orgasm distracted him. Louis simply took matters into his own hands. He was so turned on and he just wanted to come. Harry watched him through sex-dazed eyes as he stroked himself with ruthless efficiency and then spilled all over Harry’s stomach, mixing his own come with Harry’s, before falling back on the bed.  

“Ah, god,” Louis sighed. “That was…”

Harry nodded. “Yeah. Wow. Just… yeah.”

“Well said,” Louis agreed. He turned his head and nuzzled at Harry’s cheek, breathing him in, catching his breath.

Harry stretched and sighed happily. “I’m all messy,” he commented. He didn’t sound too bothered.

“Do you want me to do something about it?”

“Oh, when it’s convenient.”

Louis frowned at Harry’s face a few inches away from his. “I’m not sure if you’re being zen or passive-aggressive.”

Harry just giggled.

With a heavy sigh, Louis rolled over and looked down at the floor. Usually there’d be a variety of dirty laundry strewn about. He reached and felt around at the side of the bed, hoping he might’ve forgotten something.

“Ah ha!” Louis tossed his discovery onto Harry’s chest.

Harry picked it up with a frown. “Is this a dirty sock?”

“Yes. Shit, wait, no.” Louis quickly snatched the sock back. “Fuck, I should be trying to impress you, not throwing dirty socks at you. Forget that happened. I’ll go get a towel.”

Harry laughed. “Yeah, if you don’t have a monogrammed towel waiting for me, what was even the point? I don’t care. Here, gimme.” He plucked the sock from Louis’ hand and gingerly wiped it over his belly. He wrinkled his nose as he surveyed the mess. “Well, that… sort of worked?”

Louis groaned, aching with embarrassment. “I’m so sorry. I’ll go get some tissues like a civilized person.”

He felt awkward when he returned, settling on the edge of the bed and holding out a handful of tissues. Harry took them but also took Louis’ hand, pulling him closer. “Come back here. Can we cuddle more?”

Apparently he didn’t mind touching Louis even knowing now what a disgusting human being he was. A few minutes later, he was giggling his way through some story about lobsters and lazily stroking a hand up and down Louis’ back. Louis wasn’t quite following – wasn’t sure where this had come from or whether the story even made any sense – but he was just glad he hadn’t ruined everything yet. He let himself enjoy the low rumble of Harry’s voice and traced out Harry’s tattoos with his fingers.

As he came down from his sex high, Louis couldn’t stop himself from starting to think. He wondered how long Harry could stay tonight. He wondered what the hell they were doing.

He went for the easy question first. “When do you have to be up tomorrow?”

“Ugh. I don’t even want to think about it. I have to be at the radio station by six, so leaving at five thirty, so hair and makeup at five, so… like, four, four thirty.”

“That’s awful. Wait, hair and makeup? For the radio?”

“I mean, they usually take video, so.” Harry sighed. “I should probably go. Get a few hours sleep.”

“Stay here,” Louis said.

Harry laughed softly. “All my things are at my hotel.”

“So you get up a little earlier to go back there and get dressed. You’re already getting up at ass o’clock. What difference does it make?” Louis pulled back a little so he could look Harry in the eye and give him his most winning grin. “Come on, stay.”

Harry bit his lip, smiling. He seemed to seriously think about it, but then he shook his head. “No, I can’t. I don’t want to wake _you_ up at ass o’clock. And how am I going to make myself get up if I’m in a comfy bed with you?”

“I’ll kick you out.”

“No!” Harry laughed. “That doesn’t sound nice.”

“Let’s just stay up, then.” Louis tilted his chin up and gave Harry a challenging look. Maybe if he projected enough bravado, he wouldn’t seem as desperate as he feared he sounded.

“I’m not sure that’s better. Actually, that’s definitely worse.”

“Yeah, but you won’t have to deal with the pain of actually getting out of bed at four in the morning.” Louis sat up quickly. “It’s a brilliant plan.”

Harry sat up more slowly. “I think it’s just trading the pain of waking up for the pain of being exhausted all day.”

“Well, those are your options. Go be responsible and sleep in your hotel alone, or stay up and be stupid with me. Your choice.” Louis shrugged.

“Well, what will we do?”

“Watch a movie? Play some games? Take a walk? I don’t know. We can figure something out.”

Harry axed the idea of watching anything, saying that he’d just fall asleep. He refused any alcohol for the same reason. Louis ended up making tea and pulling out his board game collection. When he’d switched over to studying physics, he’d found that the math and science nerds were very into board games. He’d joined in to make friends, largely because he reckoned that then he could ask them for help in his courses, but he’d ended up actually enjoying the games. He wasn’t as dedicated to the games as some of his friends were but he could hold his own.

Harry, unfamiliar with the games, listened to Louis’ explanations with intense focus, then demanded the rule sheet to look at himself. He frowned deeply at the board and seemed to carefully consider every move.

“Okay, so this is supposed to be fun,” Louis said.

“I am having fun,” Harry muttered, not looking up from his cards.

Louis reached out and poked him in his scowling forehead. “Yeah, you look like it.”

“Stop it,” Harry said, batting his hand away. “I am. It’s just winning is the most fun so I’m going to win.”

“Okay,” Louis said slowly.

“Don’t _let_ me win, though.” Harry frowned at him. “I hate that.”

Louis shrugged. “I mean, it’s either that or else I win, so. Prepare to taste defeat, Styles.”

Harry did actually win the second game they played, but he lost the third so terribly that he started throwing his game pieces at Louis. It wasn’t alarming; he did it with all the aggression of a grumpy, sleepy kitten. It was still a bit rude. “Yeah, I think we’re done with board games,” Louis said as he gathered the little wooden pieces up from the carpet where they were sitting.

“I didn’t like that one anyway. You were too mean.”

“Maybe keeping you up all night was a bad idea.”

“Well, it’s too late to turn back now,” Harry said sullenly.

Louis scooted over and leaned in to kiss away Harry’s pout. He thought it might be a quick peck, but Harry’s mouth moved against his, turning it into a sweet, slow snog. It went on for a few minutes until Harry pulled back and murmured, “What was that for?”

Louis shrugged. “You’re just kind of cute.”

“Even when I’m grumpy and awful?” Harry smiled.

“You’re not that awful. Only a little bit,” Louis said, kissing him again. Then, because it was incredibly late and he was half-drunk on exhaustion, he asked, “Harry, what are we doing here?”

“That was something that the kids call ‘making out,’ I believe.”

Louis rolled his eyes. “I meant, like – you know what I meant.”

Harry leaned over to rest his head on Louis’ shoulder. “We’re having a date. I thought we’d established that. I’d say it’s going okay except for me throwing things at you. That wasn’t the best, sorry. But I’ve liked it. I like you.”

Louis wrapped an arm around Harry. “I like you, too. Quite a lot. But how is this supposed to work? You travel all the time, and when you’re not traveling you don’t live anywhere near here. It’s not like we can just date and try it out.”

Harry answered carefully, “Well, we can text and call and get to know each other. And I do travel a lot, that’s true, but you know, I go between LA and London a lot. If I’ve got some extra time, I could just stop in Boston. So, like… it’s not impossible.”

“But long-term…”

“Why do we have to think about that now?” Harry said plaintively. He lifted his head to look Louis in the eyes and curled a hand around his knee. “Lou, I – fuck, I’m afraid that this is coming on too strong, but that night with you was… It’s been a long time since I connected with someone like that. I just want to give this a chance. If we need to figure things out, then we’ll figure it out. I don’t want to worry about the future. I just want us to get to know each other and if it’s worth it then we’ll just do it.” He yawned. “Sorry. I’m so tired. Does that make sense?”

“I think so.” Louis looked at him, his sleepy eyes and his earnest expression, and couldn’t imagine saying no to him. That was probably bad. He was fairly sure it was a bad idea to attempt a long-distance relationship with a nomadic celebrity, fairly sure that this would crash and burn.   

“I just want to try.”

“Yeah.” Louis sighed and admitted, “Me, too.”


	2. Chapter 2

Teaching a lab period was so boring. If he’d prepared and described it well, most of the three-hour lab involved him sitting at his desk. He’d field a question every few minutes and make an occasional circuit around the lab to make sure no one was doing anything horrifyingly wrong, but mostly he was just there.

Today he was turning his phone over and over in his hands. He couldn’t figure out whether to text Harry. It annoyed him. He hated feeling like this, twisted up with uncertainty, and about something so banal.

They had texted briefly a few days ago. Harry wrote to say that the interview had gone well and he was on his way out of Boston. Louis had written back to say he hoped to hear the interview and to wish Harry safe travels. Harry had said “thanks.” Then, nothing.

Steeling himself, he typed out,  _ “teaching” a lab. So bored. How’ve you been? _

When he got back from his next stroll around the lab, there was already a message waiting for him from the contact he had saved as, simply, “H.”  _ On a plane. I’m bored too! I was trying to write but it’s no good. _

Louis frowned.  _ I didn’t mean to distract you. _

_ No, it’s being on a plane that’s distracting. I like being distracted by you anyway. _

Well, if that wasn’t an invitation to flirt, Louis didn’t know what was. He wished he weren’t in the middle of a class. He could get away with texting for the rest of the class period, but that certainly wouldn’t be setting a good example to his students.

He settled on responding,  _ Wish I could distract you more but I do have to pay a little attention to my students… How long is your flight? Will you still be around in an hour? _

_ Yes, _  Harry wrote back.

That wasn’t entirely a yes-or-no question, but okay. Following up on that would have to wait. There was a lot of giggling happening in the back of the room, and that was never a good sign. Suppressing a sigh, he went to investigate.

The moment the last students left, he pulled his phone back out to write,  _ Lab ended up being surprisingly eventful. Someone soldered on a table. Fuckin freshmen… _

_ I could call if you want?   _ Harry wrote back.

_ Sure! I’m just going to be puttering around cleaning up. _

The phone rang shortly. The first thing Harry said was, “So what’s it mean that someone soldered a table?” He pronounced ‘solder’ wrong.

“It’s not that interesting,” Louis laughed, but he launched into an explanation anyway.

They chatted idly for a few minutes, sharing bits and pieces of their day, Louis attempting to cradle his phone between his ear and shoulder as he tidied away the lab materials. Then he gathered his things to walk back to his office. “It’s so weird that I’m talking to you and you’re on a plane. Where are you going, anyway?”

“LA for a while.”

“Oh. Must be nice and warm there,” Louis mused, breath puffing out in front of him in the cold Boston air. “It sounds exhausting traveling all the time and hardly ever being home.”

“Sometimes. You get sort of used to it but it’s always nice to come home. I have a house in LA, though, so it’s sort of like home. Like, it’s my space, anyway.”

“Oh.” Louis breathed slowly, trying to figure out what to say. What a life, to just casually have homes in various cities.

“You’ve gone all quiet,” Harry said softly.

“Well, it’s kind of blowing my mind that you apparently have multiple houses.”

“Oh. Yeah. It kind of blew my mind when I realized that buying a second house made sense and I could afford it. Um, sorry. I know I’m really lucky.”

“Yeah, no, like, don’t feel bad. It’s just weird. Uh, what’s your house like, then?”

“Big,” Harry laughed. “Way too big. The kitchen’s enormous. I love it. Maybe, um, maybe you’ll come see it sometime.”

“Will you cook for me in the giant kitchen?” Louis joked, unlocking his office door. He closed it behind him once he stepped inside.

“Of course. I love cooking.”

“Wait, really?” Louis’ heart leapt. A bit of new knowledge about Harry was always thrilling, but even more so was the excellent revelation that he liked to cook.

“Yeah. I’m a pretty good cook, I think. It’s so nice to be all domestic, like, just stay in and clean the kitchen and cook for someone and spend a night together.” He sighed wistfully, then coughed. “I’m so weird, sorry.”

“No, that’s, that’s lovely,” Louis said faintly. Harry Styles  _ liked to have quiet nights in and cook.  _ What a dream.

“It’s funny. I feel like everyone knows I like to cook because I said it in an interview once. It’s nice that you don’t know all about me already. It can be weird getting to know someone when they think they know everything about you.”

“I can imagine. I mean, I know some stuff about you, but I didn’t go, like, dig through my little sisters’ collections of magazines with your face on them to get the dirt on you.”

Harry laughed. “Well, what do you know? I’m curious.”

Louis frowned, leaning back in his office chair. “I know you’re twenty-five—”

“Twenty-six,” Harry interrupted. “Just had my birthday recently.”

“Oh. Well, I didn’t know that. Happy birthday. Um, I know you were on X Factor and you got put in a boy band called Compass Rose, and you had one big hit and… I want to say, two albums?”

“Three, but the third was kind of a flop. That was after Aaron left.”

“Ah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, keep going.”

“Okay.” Louis paused to think and then laughed. “I know you were like sixteen when the band started. One of my sisters had this big poster of you. You look really different now. Um, your first solo album a few years ago, which was much dancier, and then Dunkirk, which I saw, by the way; you were great. And then you disappeared for a while, and came back with a totally different second album.”

“Pretty good career recap, but, like, what do you know about me personally?”

“Like, not what I know from actually meeting you, but I’ve read?”

“Yeah.”

“Um. Not that much. I guess I know that you’ve supposedly had a lot of beautiful girlfriends.”

“Yeah, I was never actually together with any of them, as you’ve probably guessed,” Harry said, sounding resigned.

“Should you really be saying that on a plane?”

“I mean, it’s just me and the band, and I’m sitting in the galley anyway.”

“Well, shit. I guess now I know you fly on private planes.”

“It’s… whatever, keep talking, please.”

“Okay, okay. Well, I know you have a sister and you wear some ridiculous and ridiculously expensive clothing and you have various famous friends. I think you’re from somewhere kind of near Manchester? I also saw some article about how you hate everyone from Compass Rose.”

“I don’t,” Harry said quickly. “We always got on pretty well. We just wanted different things. We don’t talk that much anymore but I don’t hate them.”

“Not even the one who left?” Louis asked, genuinely curious.

“It sucked but I don’t  _ hate  _ him. He did what he felt he had to do for his career, I guess. He was always set up to be the star. We all knew it was coming. And to be fair, he did try not to screw us over. We talked about it before he left.”

“Hmm,” Louis said noncommittally, not commenting, just listening.

“Anyway. Is that really it?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I  _ may _ have looked at a lot of pictures of you in the last few months, but unless you want me to recap my favorite outfits of yours…”

Harry chuckled. “Kind of, but maybe another time.”

“Do you know anything about me?” Louis asked curiously.

“I’ll admit I may have Googled you. I found your Twitter and your professional website.  I didn’t learn that much besides where you went to university and that you know how to skateboard. I tried to read one of your papers but it I couldn’t understand it at all. I found your website from when you were a graduate student—”

“No! That thing’s still up?”

“Yeah. What was up with the reviews section?”

Louis laughed. “Oh my god, that was so good.”

“People didn’t actually say those things to you, did they?”

“Oh, yes,” Louis said fondly. The “reviews” on his silly grad student site had been a collection of insults that he’d received over the years, ranging from the secondary school teacher who’d told him he’d never amount to anything to the grad school advisor who had exasperatedly asked if he ever took anything seriously.

“Why would you put that on your professional website?” Harry sounded baffled.

Louis wrote down a quick note to himself as he replied, “I guess I should probably get that taken down now that I’m a professor. I still think it’s pretty fucking funny, though.”

“Some of those were really mean.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s funny to put them on my website.”

“I don’t think I’d want to advertise things that hurtful.”

“I mean,  _ I  _ know I’m not a loser or an idiot. I worked hard for that. It’s not that hurtful if you think the person insulting you is just a jackass.”

“I don’t think I could do that.” Harry cleared his throat. “Hey, so, like, what if we start asking each other, like, get-to-know-you kinds of questions? I know that’s cheesy but—”

“No, that sounds fun.”

“—I – oh, okay.  Well, you mentioned having younger sisters. What’s your family like?”

Louis told him all about his big, complicated family, and heard about Harry’s family in return, until Harry had to hang up. When they ended the call, Louis saw that they had been talking for almost ninety minutes.

Later that night, he went on Twitter and saw paparazzi pictures of Harry leaving the airport in LA. Harry was smiling widely. Louis hoped it was because of him, though he knew that was probably wishful thinking. What a strange turn his life had taken.

Over the next two weeks, they texted back and forth, asking each other questions.  _ (What are your hobbies? Did you ever play a sport? What was your first kiss like? What’s with all the rings you wear? Why did you get your PhD in America?)  _ Sometimes there were many, many hours between question and answer – being time zones apart and busy with work made conversation difficult. They kept at it, though.

He waited eagerly for every message. Those little glimpses into Harry’s mind were bright spots in his stress-filled days. He longed for Harry in real life and not just on a screen, though. He wanted to talk without these long gaps, wrapped up in each other on the couch. He wanted Harry in his bed again.

Eventually, he gave in and asked the question he most wanted answered.  _ When do I get to see you again? _

To his surprise, instead of a text, he got a call an hour later.

“Hey, Harry,” he answered warmly. “What’s up?”

“Hey, not much. I got your text. I have to be back in London on Friday, so, if you want, I could come to Boston on Thursday.”

“Oh! Yeah, that’d be great. You could – could you spend the night?” Louis cringed as soon as the words were out of his mouth, feeling over-eager and exposed.

“At your place?”

“If you wanted to.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah, that sounds nice.”

Louis breathed out in relief. “Were you waiting for me to ask? Because you’re welcome here anytime. Whenever you’re free and you want to come. I mean, like, come to this place. Ah, crap.”

Harry snickered. “Okay, noted.”

“Good. Yeah, jot that down, Styles.”

* * *

 

_ My car’s outside. Can you come let me in and check that no one’s watching? _

Louis’ heart leapt as he read the notification on his phone screen. Harry was here.

He wiped his hands on a dish cloth and hurried out. As usual, the hallway of his quiet building was empty. He opened the door and waved Harry inside. Harry hurried in, wearing a black hat and hefting a large duffel bag over his shoulder. As soon as they were in Louis’ flat, Harry dropped his duffel and gathered Louis into a tight hug. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry’s middle.

Harry held him for a long, long moment, his face buried in Louis’ neck, his short hair tickling Louis’ cheek. It wasn’t the greeting that Louis expected, but it was wonderful to simply hold Harry.

Finally, Harry pulled back with a bashful smile. “Sorry. Sometimes I just need a hug.”

Louis leaned up and kissed him quickly. “It’s not exactly a hardship.”

Harry beamed. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Yeah, that’s not really a hardship, either.” Louis patted Harry’s chest. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Just some water, thanks.”

Harry followed Louis into the kitchen and looked around curiously. “You’re cooking?”

“Well, I mean, so far I’ve chopped and assembled. I haven’t actually cooked it yet. I didn’t want it to get cold before you got here, and if I’m honest, I kind of wanted you here to make sure I didn’t completely fuck it up. If you’re tired you can just sit and supervise.”

“No, I want to help.” Harry rubbed his hands together. “What are we making, then? Can I see the recipes?”

“I don’t have a recipe for the mashed potatoes. Figured I could just wing it. But here’s the recipe for the chicken dish,” Louis said, waking up his laptop so Harry could see.

Harry raised his eyebrows as he read. “Stuffed with cheese and wrapped with prosciutto? This sounds amazing.”

Louis shrugged. He hoped it would be. “And then I just got a salad kit – it’s in the fridge – because I fuckin’ hate making salads but I thought maybe you were a fruit-and-veg man.”

It wasn’t a very active cooking process so they were easily able to chat while the food heated. On the phone, Harry had tended to be very vague and general about what he was doing in LA –  _ I got some coffee, I had dinner with some people, I went to a meeting.  _ For some reason, in Louis’ kitchen, he was suddenly more specific, laughing about a cooking disaster he’d had at his friend James’ house and then spinning off on some anecdote about the other people at that dinner.

Eyes on the potatoes he was mashing, Louis tentatively said, “So, uh, would I know who these people are? Can I ask that?”

The silence that followed wasn’t  _ that  _ long, but it was long enough for Louis to imagine half a dozen indignant responses before Harry finally answered, “Maybe some of them. James is James Corden. He’s been a friend of mine for a couple years, him and his family. He has a wife and three little kids. They’re so nice.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Louis said, reaching for the butter. “Is he as funny in real life?”

“More so, I think. You’d be surprised how much he holds back on telly. Although sometimes that’s a good thing. How’s the mash? Chicken’s just about ready.”

They focused on the food for a while – Harry evidently was very hungry after his flight – but they eased back into conversation as the meal went on.

“Do you have to be up early tomorrow?” Harry asked.

“Not really, since there aren’t classes this week. We’re running an experiment on the plasma machine right now. Luckily one of the grad students is an early bird, so he’s got the morning shift. I’m taking over after lunch. I have stuff I should probably get done before then, but I don’t have to be up terribly early.”

“No classes this week?”

“Nope, it’s spring break.”

Harry frowned. “Oh. I wish I’d known. I could’ve flown you out to LA. Well, if you wanted.”

Louis shook his head. “I couldn’t have gone, not with the experiment going.”

“Not even for a day or two?”

“I don’t think so... I don’t know. I thought you were busy anyway.”

“I mean, yeah. It’s fine.” Harry shrugged, looking down at his plate. “I think I’m done eating.”

“Yeah, me too.” Louis gathered up the dishes and took them over to the sink.

They attempted to watch a movie after dinner. Louis snuggled up close. They kept touching each other – gentle, experimental fingers on the other’s leg or arm – until they inevitably gave up on the movie and just made out on the couch for a while. It was the sort of slow, aimless kissing you’d do on an early date with someone you hadn’t slept with yet, the sort of thing they’d skipped the first two times they saw each other. Louis reveled in it now. He was half-hard but not in a rush to do anything about it. Of course he hoped for more tonight – it had been a few weeks with nothing but his hand and his memories, after all. He just didn’t want to hurry past this part. He wanted to taste Harry’s mouth, trace his fingers up and down Harry’s arms and memorize him like this. He felt a heady sense of potential. They had time – tonight, and the next visit, and the next. There was no need to hurry.

* * *

 

After Harry left, Louis felt more aware of his loneliness than ever. It had been so lovely to have someone else in his bed. They’d giggled and whispered to each other late into the night, and then they’d fidgeted and negotiated sleeping positions, struggling to settle like kids at a sleepover. It felt like the first time spending the night together. Technically it wasn’t, but that first night they’d both been completely wrecked with exhaustion by the time they stopped having sex and passed out.

The second massive difference to that first night was that this time, nobody snuck out under cover of darkness. They’d woken up slowly together, fooled around for a while, and then had breakfast in their pajamas. It had been nearly the perfect morning.

Louis had been doing fine without that kind of intimacy for a long time. Now that he’d tasted it, though, he wanted more. It was harder than ever to convince himself that he liked his quiet, lonely mornings and evenings at home.

He never really had, of course. His work days were lonely enough – a large portion of his work day involved him alone with his thoughts and his computer. When he wasn’t at work, he wanted people and entertainment and social stimulation.

He’d decided not to get roommates in Boston because he reckoned that he should be focusing on work as much as possible anyway. He had wondered since if that were a mistake. He’d probably be happier if he had someone to come home to, even if only a friend. Of course, it would be even harder to carry on a clandestine relationship if he had roommates.

Maybe he should get a cat, he mused as he sat alone in his office. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. For now, there was no one waiting for him at home, human or animal, and he just didn’t want to be there. He tried to summon the will to debug the code he was working on to analyze his experiment data.

“Hey, Louis, you’re still here?”

Louis blinked and looked up to see Liam Payne standing in his doorway. “Oh, hey, Liam. Yeah. You working late too?”

“I’m actually heading out to get drinks with some other postdocs. Wanna come?”

“Yes,” Louis said immediately. “Let me just save this and grab my shit.”

It wasn’t anything special, but it was nice to be out with people. The other postdocs were mostly from different departments. They were fun and it was interesting to hear about their fields. It made Louis realize how much he’d been focusing on nothing but work and Harry for a while now, which was a little absurd considering how little time he actually spent talking to or being with Harry. Maybe instead of getting a cat, he should try to actually have a friend or two.

He invited Liam to lunch a few days later and was pleased when Liam cheerfully agreed. They just got sandwiches at a café on campus, but at least he wasn’t eating ramen alone at his desk. They chatted a bit about work and department gossip and new music. Then Liam asked, “Hey, you remember my friend Tim who was out with us the other night?”

“Yeah, I remember him.”

“Cool. Well, he liked you and he asked me to find out if you were single.”

“Oh!” Louis thought back, trying to figure out if Tim had been flirting with him. He hadn’t picked up on any signals. “Really? Well, that’s flattering.”

Liam laughed. “Flattering? That doesn’t sound like a great sign for Tim. Aren’t you single?”

“I’m not sure,” Louis admitted.

“Oh. Complicated situation?” Liam grimaced sympathetically.

Louis shrugged. “Sort of? I’m seeing someone, but it’s pretty new and we haven’t made anything official. It’s long-distance, so it’s tricky.”

“Ah, man, that’s tough.” Liam shook his head. “Well, I’m happy to set you up with Tim if you want. He’s definitely interested.”

Louis took a bite of his sandwich to give himself a moment to think. They hadn’t talked about being exclusive at all. In principle, he probably ought to play the field a little and figure out if Harry was really worth it. The question was whether he was willing to risk the potential he had with Harry for the sake of exploring another option. “Thanks,” he said finally, “but I don’t think so.”

* * *

 

On Harry’s fourth visit at the end of March, he stayed for a whole weekend.

Louis was thrilled and anxious about it. His worries bubbled to the surface on Saturday morning when Harry was cooking them breakfast, looking sleep-rumpled and fit in nothing but a pair of track pants.

“So, was I supposed to plan activities? Because I don’t mind staying in all weekend, but normally if I had a – someone visiting for the weekend, I’d figure out some things for us to do, but I don’t actually know where I can take you, or if I can even take you anywhere,” Louis babbled. His face was warm when he finally managed to shut himself up and turned away to fill the kettle.

He startled when he felt Harry’s arms wrap around him. “We can do things. I like doing things.”

Louis looked over his shoulder at Harry. “What kinds of things? I need more guidance here. It’s okay for people to see us out together?”

“As long as no one gets a picture of us making out or something, sure.” Harry pressed a kiss to his cheek and let go so he could turn back to the sizzling pan he had on the stove. “There might be rumors, but that’s okay. I have loads of friends and there are groups of fans who think I’m dating every single one of them. It doesn’t really matter. As for what kinds of things?  My fans are pretty young, lots of tweens and teenagers and young women, so, like, if we go to places that are mostly adults, it’s usually fine.”

“Damn, so no Chuck E. Cheese, then?” Louis sighed. “Well, there go all of my ideas.”

Harry laughed. “Seriously, though. I don’t know. Take me someplace you like, if you want to.”

“What do you like? When you visit a new city, what do you like to do?”

“Oh, anything,” Harry said, pulling two plates from the cabinets. “Food, obviously. Museums and galleries are great; I love art. I like shopping but that usually involves getting spotted so a lot of the time I save that for when I need to get papped anyway. Walking around a neighborhood with interesting architecture, if I can get away with it – that’s a good thing to do, like, at dawn when you’re horribly jet-lagged and you can’t sleep. I like a good view.”

He said that so seriously as he dished out their breakfast that Louis had to laugh. “A good view? Really?”

“Yes, really! Like, a tall building or a mountain where you can see a long ways. That’s nice.”

Louis shook his head. “Ugh, well, now I feel like a complete loser. I don’t know any views, and Boston has great museums but I haven’t actually made the time to see any of them.”

Harry smiled, setting out the plates and taking a seat at the table. “Then we can visit them together for the first time. That’ll be fun. Let me text my assistant. She can probably get us an after-hours tour somewhere.”

“Oh. That’s a thing? Of course that’s a thing.”

They passed a few hours in Louis’ apartment. Louis graded some papers while Harry wrote in a journal and fiddled with his phone. They made some snacks and played a board game, although halfway through they got distracted, making out like teenagers with the game forgotten on the table. They passed more time that way than either realized – they were both startled when an alarm chimed on Harry’s phone to tell them it was time to go to the contemporary art museum.

* * *

 

“There’s a really interesting tension in this one,” Harry said. “This delicate brushwork and the colors, and then these discordant slashes through it. It makes me think of, like, longing for beauty, but also wanting to reject the conventional notion of what is beautiful. It’s sort of unsettling and that’s what makes it powerful.”

He was completely enthralled by the painting, eyes fixed on the canvas, a little smile on his lips. Louis couldn’t stop staring at him. “Yeah. Brilliant,” he said vaguely.

Harry glanced at over and caught Louis’ gaze. He laughed, pulling a hand out of his coat pocket to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry. Am I talking too much? I swear I’m not trying to be pretentious.”

“What? No! It’s – you see so much in all of these. It’s kind of fascinating.”

“I hope you’re not bored.”

Louis shook his head vehemently. “No way. Not with you as my tour guide, anyway.”

Harry turned his eyes back to the artworks on the wall. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Louis stepped closer and tried to figure out which one Harry was looking at now. “I think I look at them more as just, like, do I find this appealing or not, what does it make me feel, and you’re thinking more about what does it mean, what’s the intention and the context. I still like being here. It’s interesting how you look at things differently. I like it.”

“Okay.” Harry swayed to the side, knocking their shoulders together, before he pointed at the next canvas over. “What do you think about that one?”

After an hour and a half, the staff member trailing them gently said that she’d have to show them out soon, as the head of the museum was ready to lock up. Harry immediately went to shake her hand and thank her profusely for her time, and they followed her out of the gallery.

Louis looked around to make sure that there was no one around to see them as they walked. Sure that the coast was clear, he reached out and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze. “I don’t care what they say about you, Styles, you’re all right.”

“Um, thanks?”

Louis laughed. “You’re just so nice to everyone. You’re not what I ever thought a famous person was like.”

Harry smirked at him. “And you’re not nearly as uptight and pedantic as I thought a professor would be.”

“Oh! Shots fired!”

They had dinner at a Thai place near Louis’ flat. The place was never full and it was late enough at night that they didn’t anticipate families with children. Louis was nervous, but it went fine. The only interruption came from a few college-aged women who asked for a selfie and gushed for a few minutes, then left them alone. It was, to his surprise, entirely okay.

Between bites of curry, Harry asked, “So, can we visit the university? Can I see where you work?”

“I mean…” Louis pushed the pile of rice around on his plate. “Yes? But it’s a university, so there are a lot of teenagers around.”

“We could go really, really early. No one will be around at dawn on a Sunday, right?”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “Right, I guess, because that’s a completely unreasonable time to be on campus.”

“So that would work,” Harry said brightly.

“No! Because it involves me getting up at the crack of dawn!”

* * *

 

Of course he got up at the crack of dawn.

The campus was still and cold in the dimness, the sun not yet over the horizon. Louis thought it seemed rather grim, all leafless trees and looming, silent buildings. Harry made all the right admiring noises as Louis pointed out various landmarks, though.

The building that housed Louis’ office was a long, tall, pale grey building. “It looks like a fortress,” Harry said. “A little bit Gothic Revival. Is this all for physics? It’s huge.”

“No, there are a bunch of departments in here,” Louis explained, scanning his badge to open a door. “And I’m actually in the astronomy faculty. That always makes people think I spend all my time looking through a telescope, but really we just do physics applied to a specific domain. Anyway, we interact with the physics department a lot, but they’re in a different building.”

He showed Harry a handful of classrooms and labs and then his office. “It’s a bit shit, because this building’s old and I’m the newest faculty member, but you know, it’s my office, so I still like it.”

Harry snapped a picture of the nameplate by the door, then stepped inside. “It’s not bad. You could put up some posters or something.” He added casually, “I bet you’ve never had sex in here.”

“Um.” Louis blinked at him. “No, I haven’t. Because I respect the sanctity of these hallowed halls of learning and not because of a lack of opportunities, obviously.”

Harry grinned and pushed the door shut. “Right, right, of course. I bet I could convince you to worry a little less about respecting your office, though.”

Harry was wearing a beanie, a very large hoodie, and baggy jeans. It shouldn’t have been possible for him to be devastatingly seductive. And yet.

Louis sat down on the edge of his desk, feeling suddenly dizzy. “Um. I mean, maybe. Probably not, actually. I take this very seriously, you know. You’d have to try really hard.”

“We’ll see about that,” Harry said, dropping to his knees.


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Lou, ready for lunch?”

Louis jumped and looked up at Liam standing in the door of his office. “Oh, shit. Yeah, sure. I didn’t realize it was that time.”

“You were just staring off into space.”

Louis had been staring at the side of the desk he’d been leaning against while his lover sucked him off in this office ten days ago, but Liam didn’t need to know that. “Oh.”

“Lot on your mind?” Liam said sympathetically.

Louis stood and shrugged his jacket on. “I guess so. Do you think I should change back into boots?”

“Yeah, I was out there a little while ago and the slush is awful.”

“Gross.”

They were chatting and walking down Commonwealth Avenue when Louis’ phone rang. When he saw who was calling, he scrambled to answer it, mouthing a _sorry_ at Liam. “H, hey, what’s up?”

“I’m at the Boston airport.”

“Wait, what?” Louis stopped abruptly. “Did we have something planned that I forgot about?”

“No, no, it’s – long story short, I thought I could see you, but then the flights didn’t actually line up right, only now my flight to London is delayed, so I have, like, an hour and a half. I know it’s not much, but we could get lunch, if you’re free. I know it’s probably a lot of trouble.”

“No, it’s not bad. I can and I’d like to see you.”

“I could meet you at the club in fifteen minutes,” Harry said in a rush. “The place we had dinner that time?”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Okay, see you there.” He hung up and grimaced as he met Liam’s curious stare. “Um, will you hate me forever if I ditch you? It’s just, that guy I’m kind of seeing, he’s in town for like an hour.”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, that I can understand.” Liam shook his head, but he was smiling. “All right. I mean, you’re going to miss out on the best pho in town—”

“That’s not even remotely true.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s cool. We’ll do lunch next week. You can tell me about your mysterious man.” Liam gave him a small wave and trudged off through the brown slush. Louis hurried off to meet Harry.

When he found Harry in the club’s dining room, he was casually handsome in a fuzzy green jumper with glasses holding his still-short hair back from his face. He beamed when he saw Louis and held his hand under the table while they waited for their food. He talked a bit about a songwriting session he’d had recently; Louis talked about the progress he was making in his research.

It felt very much like a casual date with someone you’d been seeing for a while. It was exactly that, Louis realized, a mixture of delight and discomfort stirring inside him. It was so strange. He didn’t think he’d feel like this after a couple short months of a long-distance relationship. It was the nicest thing, though, to sit and have lunch with Harry like this.

Towards the end of their meal, Harry reached under the table to squeeze his knee. “Thank you. I’m so glad you could come meet me. I know it’s not, like, a proper date, but it’s just so nice to see you.”

“Of course it’s a proper date. Thank _you_ for calling me. I just hope I don’t make you miss your flight.”

Harry smiled at him sweetly for a long moment before he suddenly perked up. “Oh! I don’t think I told you. I’m doing this special concert in a few weeks. Invitation only, and it’s being filmed.”

“Oh, sick! That sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, I’m excited. And, um, I was wondering if maybe you’d like to come. I’d get you tickets and pay for your flight, don’t worry about any of that. If you want to come, I can make it happen.”

“Oh, wow.” Louis blinked and sat back. “I assume it’s filming in England? When is it?”

Harry nodded. “We’re doing it in Manchester, yeah. May fourth. It’s a Thursday. I know that might be difficult…” He trailed off, biting his lip.

Louis looked up at the ceiling, trying to bring the university schedule to mind. “May fourth… ah, crap. That’s right before finals week. I should really be around then for my students. Ah, that’s a shame.” The realization made him feel a little relieved. Being flown out to see some exclusive concert felt like a lot. A lot of time that he’d be hard-pressed to spare; a lot to ask from a new relationship; a lot of money for Harry to be spending on him.

He’d try to manage it if it were a big deal to Harry. If it weren’t, though, it seemed like a lot of unnecessary stress. He watched Harry’s face carefully for a sign of disappointment, but Harry just nodded, smiling understandingly.

“Okay, yeah. I knew it’d probably be hard to fit in and it’s a long way to go just for a concert. It’ll probably be kind of long and boring anyway, like, ‘cause they’re taping this whole show around it. Yeah, anyway. Okay, so I should get going.” They both stood and shared a quick hug. “I’ll let you know when I can stop in again.”

 

* * *

 

The next few weeks dragged. It was finally spring, new green leaves appearing on the trees. He had a touch of hay fever, the students were restless, the plasma machine broke, and Harry was being weird.

Or maybe Louis was reading too much into it. He wasn’t sure.

They were texting every day, as usual, but they’d barely managed to talk on the phone. It was true that calls were always difficult to arrange between them. It seemed more difficult lately, though, and when they did talk, Harry seemed a little quiet, a little distant. Louis was guessing that it was work stress, but Harry wasn’t telling him anything. 

It was frustrating. Louis wanted to know; he wanted to help; he wanted to be there for him. And he just missed him.

Various obligations kept Harry zipping across the globe. It was weeks before he was able to visit again. Louis felt oddly on-edge as he waited for Harry to arrive. He wasn’t sure what he should do, what he could do, to make Harry feel better and open up.

He had flowers and a platter of snacks out for Harry’s late-night arrival. It felt like a paltry gesture, but Louis truly had no idea what would be better.

He realized he needn’t have worried when Harry hauled him in for a scorching kiss as soon as he got into the apartment. He crashed into Harry with a startled squeak and wrapped his arms around him to pull their bodies together. A shock of arousal filled him, desperate like they’d been apart for months rather than weeks.

“Missed you,” Louis sighed when Harry shifted to kiss his neck.

“Yeah?” Harry lifted his head and locked eyes with Louis, his expression intense but unreadable. “You want me?”

“All the time,” Louis said, smoothing his hands down Harry’s back to grab his ass.

Harry grinned. “Take me to bed, then.”

 

* * *

 

The water had shut off a few minutes ago, but Harry was nowhere to be seen. Louis was a little concerned. He couldn’t quite say why; it just felt odd.

“Harry?” he called, stepping out of the bedroom. What he saw in the living room confused him even more. Harry was curled up on the couch, naked but for the throw blanket around his shoulders, engrossed in his phone. He didn’t look up.

“What are you doing out here? I thought you’d come back to bed,” Louis said softly, padding closer.

Harry shrugged. “Just wanted to check on some stuff.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Harry answered flatly, still not looking up from his phone.

Louis settled gingerly on the cushion next to him. “What’s got you all tense, then?”

“Nothing,” Harry snapped. “Nothing to be worked up over, apparently.”

Louis studied Harry’s face. He had been guessing it was something work-related to have Harry rushing to his phone, but _that_ had felt pointed. “Did I do something wrong?”

Harry sighed. “No. I’m sorry. I’m stressed. I think - I just need some alone time. I’m just gonna sit out here for a while longer.”

“Okay. I’ll, uh, just leave you be for a bit, then?”

“Yeah. Sorry. It’s just… you know.” Harry gave him a weak smile.

Louis definitely didn’t know. He nodded anyway and shuffled back to his room, where he sat back against the headboard and stared at the walls. His guts knotted with nerves and uncertainty. It all felt off. He didn’t understand why. He wanted to fix it, but he wasn’t sure how to, or whether he should, or could. Harry was rarely an open book to him, but he’d never been so closed-off before.

When he got tired of his thoughts running in circles, Louis picked up his iPad and tried to read a journal article that he’d been meaning to get around to. He tried to follow his usual procedure, but thirty minutes later, he hadn’t retained a single thing. Well. Surely Harry had had enough “alone time” by now.

He went back to the living room. Harry was curled up in a chair now, staring out the window at the building’s dull little courtyard. Louis cleared his throat. “Do you want some tea?”

Harry’s shoulders jerked, startled. “Oh. Um, yeah, sure.”

Louis brought the tea over a few minutes later. “Do you think you can tell me now what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Harry frowned as he took his mug from Louis’ hand.

“I mean, obviously something’s wrong. You’re being weird. I mean, not _weird,_ but, I don’t know. Not like how you normally are.”

“You don’t know how I normally am. You hardly know me,” Harry shot back.

“Ooo-kay,” Louis said. He walked a few paces away and took a few breaths before turning back. “So you’re obviously upset _and_ now you’re lashing out at me, so, okay. Is it just something that you don’t want to talk to me about that doesn’t have to do with me, or are you mad at me?”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s nothing. Don’t yell at me.”

“I’m not-” Louis pressed his lips together. Nothing made him want to yell quite like getting told not to yell when he _hadn’t_ been. He knew better than that, though. He sat back down near Harry and reached out to gently touch Harry’s shoulder. Working to keep his voice even and soothing, he said, “Harry, please. If I did something that upset you, just tell me. What’s going on? I have no idea and I want to know. Please.”

Harry looked away, biting his lip. He didn’t deny it this time. Still, it felt like ages before he finally spoke. “It’s just, I’m always coming to see you. It’s never the other way around. It just seems like you don’t, like, want to come see me. And it’s fine. I get it. I shouldn’t be getting all worked up over it.”  

Louis blinked. “But you’re the one who said it made sense for you to come see me when you were flying from LA to London.”

“I know. Obviously I know that.” Harry shook his head. “Whatever. I know. Forget it.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just - kind of taken aback, I guess. You never said anything before. Please, go on.”

Harry looked into his eyes intently before he went on. “Well. It’s like, of course it makes sense for me to be the one coming to you most of the time, but that’s not the same as you _never_ coming to see me anywhere. You were on spring break and you didn’t even think about coming to see me. And then I tried to invite you to my concert and you just brushed it off immediately, you didn’t even _try_ to make it work. And...” His nostrils flared and he fixed Louis with a suddenly defiant look. “I looked it up. You’re not even teaching that week. You couldn’t even consider trying to get away for a couple days in a week where you don’t even have to _do_ anything? You don’t think your students could possibly cope with having to e-mail you questions instead of coming to your office?”

“I…” Louis stared at him. “Harry, you know how important this job is to me, how critical the first few years are. I just don’t want to do anything to endanger it, so I guess – and I didn’t think the concert was that big of a deal?”

Harry breathed out heavily through his nose. “What part of me inviting you didn’t communicate that it’s a big deal?”

“You brought it up so casually, and then you immediately accepted it when I said I didn’t think I could go,” Louis said carefully. “I just thought it was like, hey, here’s a chance to come to a concert if you feel like it, not a, hey, here’s this thing that’s important to me and I really want you to come.”

“I asked you to come,” Harry said in a small voice. “I wouldn’t have if it didn’t matter. But then you acted like it didn’t matter at all, so…”

“Harry. I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t realize. Look, you have to spell things out for me sometimes. If it’s important, _tell me._ I can’t read your mind, I don’t always know. If you need me to treat something like it’s important, it’s going to be really, really helpful if you tell me to.”

Harry looked down at his knees, sighed, and shrugged.

“Harry, seriously. Please. I don’t want to make you unhappy. Tell me how not to. Tell me when it’s important.”

After a long silence, Harry said, “This is important. It’s going to be on the BBC.”

“Wait, what?” Louis leaned down so he could look at Harry’s face. “Harry! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t seem like you cared,” Harry shrugged.

Louis sighed and turned Harry’s face toward him with a hand on his cheek. “Look, I’ll e-mail Linda. She’s an older professor in my department and she always gives me good advice. I’ll ask her if she thinks it’d be okay for me to be gone for part of reading days, and we can go from there. All right?”

“All right.”

 

* * *

 

Louis checked his phone first thing the next morning. He already had an e-mail from Linda. Nervousness fluttered in his stomach as he opened it, but he laughed out loud as he read it.

“Whassit,” Harry mumbled into the pillow.

“This e-mail is one for the reviews page. Or it would be if I hadn’t had my old website taken down,” Louis said wryly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Harry blinked sleepily up at him. “What e-mail?”

“From Linda.”

“It’s bad?”

Louis held the phone out to him. “See for yourself.”

Harry’s hand snaked out from under the covers to rub at his eyes before reaching for the phone. It didn’t take long for a smile to break over his face. In his sleep-rough voice, he read aloud, “‘You first-year professors always take yourselves way too seriously. You know that most of us don’t even hold office hours during reading days because no one shows up, right? It’s okay, the building won’t fall down if you’re not here to hold it up.’ Lou! You can come!”

“Looks that way, yeah.” He was still a bit nervous about it, but he resolved to suck it up. It would be worth it if it put more joyful smiles on Harry’s face like the one he was wearing now. Louis hadn’t realized he had that much power over Harry’s smiles.

Harry threw an arm around him and snuggled close. He sleepily cheered, “Yaaaay. We’ll buy you a plane ticket after breakfast.”

 

* * *

 

Louis was no stranger to air travel. He’d been living in the States for nearly ten years now. He’d flown home to England at least fifteen times in those years. There had been domestic travel, too: conferences, and job interviews, and the little trips to visit grad school friends once they started graduating and moving away, and friends’ weddings.

Even though he hadn’t had to pay for the work-related travel, fitting that many flights into a graduate student’s budget hadn’t been easy. He had quickly become a master at budget travel. He’d crammed himself into tiny seats. He’d cringed at strange noises on rickety-feeling budget-airline planes. He’d found himself at strange, far-flung airports, and then found his way away from them. He’d flown at awful times and weathered awful layovers. More than once, he’d had to change _airports_ during a layover. In short, he’d endured pretty much every miserable budget travel experience. He felt like he’d seen it all.

This trip exposed him to something brand new: business class.

When he got on the plane, he waved his ticket at the flight attendant and instinctively turned to the right. She had to stop him with a hand on his shoulder and say, “Sir, your seat is to the left. You’re in the business cabin.”

“Wait, what?”

She gestured to Louis’ left with a smile. “Your seat is that way. It’ll be the third row up, on your left.”

“Oh, um, okay.”

He entered the heretofore-forbidden upper class cabin feeling like an impostor. His seat was wide as an armchair and surprisingly comfortable. He probably could kick the seat in front of him if he were determined to, but it would take actual effort, not just one wrong move. How bizarre.

He tried to relax into his seat. It really was wonderful, but he felt terribly guilty. Harry had insisted on buying the tickets and on getting ones for times that worked best for Louis, regardless of whether they were the absolute cheapest ones. Louis had supposed that was fair, considering that Harry’s net worth was orders of magnitude higher than his own. It hadn’t occurred to him that Harry would get him anything other than an economy seat, though. Louis didn’t even know how much a seat like this cost. Far too much, certainly.

His guilt didn’t keep him from sleeping. The seat was cushy and spacious, perfect for getting some rest on a red-eye flight. He only felt halfway to death when navigating the layover in what was, for his body, the middle of the night.

They landed in Manchester in the mid-morning of a bright, clear day. At baggage claim, there was a man holding a sign with his name on it, and then a posh car to whisk him away to his posh hotel. It was too early in the day to check in, he was sure, and yet no sooner did he give his name than he was handed a key to his room.

The room itself wasn’t extravagant, at least. It was certainly nice. Unlike the plane ticket, though, he was fairly sure that this cost less than his monthly pay.

He still felt a need to protest. He texted Harry, _Settled in at the hotel. This was all way too nice!_

Harry wrote back right away, _I disagree x,_ followed shortly by, _I’m filming some stuff right now. Take a nap, get some lunch! Be at the venue by 3 x._

Louis smiled down at his phone. He probably looked like a fool; luckily there was no one there to see him.

He followed Harry’s advice, treating himself to a bit of rest and a meal before he headed back out. His nervousness increased as he made his way over, as he checked in at a special entrance, as an usher showed him to his seat _very_ close to the stage. Then he saw the person seated next to him and suddenly, everything felt okay.

“Niall! Harry didn’t tell me you’d be here!”

“Harry didn’t tell me _you’d_ be here!” Niall exclaimed. They leaned in and hugged. “So you and Harry, huh?”

“Oh, let’s not get into that here. How’ve you been? Are you still trying to get a tour lined up?”

As he was caught up in conversation with Niall, it felt like no time at all before an authoritative-looking man in a suit came out to issue various stern warnings to the crowd: no throwing things on the stage; cheering good, screaming annoying things bad, interrupting very bad; and so on. Nick Grimshaw came out next and made a short speech introducing Harry. It was so brief that it came as a surprise when the lights went dark. A cheer rippled through the dim space.

The stage lights snapped on, a bright flash that pushed the screams to nearly ear-splitting levels, and there was Harry.

Louis’ heart raced, and he was on his feet without any conscious choice, awe and disbelief coursing through him. Harry looked impossibly stylish with perfect hair and a floral-patterned suit that would have looked ridiculous on almost anyone else. His singing was beautiful from the first note; he seemed completely engrossed in it, eyes closed as he swayed in front of the microphone.

When the song picked up, Harry did too, pulling the microphone free of its stand and striding across the stage. He was captivating, so talented and dynamic, such a joy to watch.  Louis never wanted the song to end.

He dropped heavily into his chair when the song was over, stunned. Superstar Harry Styles and _his_ Harry had always felt a little separate to him. There was the Harry he’d seen on movie screens and magazine pages and once as a tiny speck from the very back of a theatre, but that wasn’t his Harry. _His_ Harry lounged around in comfortable clothes in a tiny Boston apartment and ate curry at the coffee table while complaining about Louis’ board game strategies and spoke vaguely about “work” like he worked in an office like any other schmuck.

But this was Harry, his Harry, singing like an angel while prancing around on stage in a designer suit and then laughing and chatting with Nick Grimshaw. It was jarring. Actually, it was kind of freaking him out a little. He sternly reminded himself that he’d already known this, and he’d given it a chance because Harry was rather amazing.

He really, really was. If Louis just focused on that, just watched and listened and kept his head in the moment, then he was fine. He was awfully lucky to be here.

 

* * *

 

There wasn’t any time to ruminate after the concert was over. Niall turned to him right away and said, “Well, the dinner’s not for another hour. Want to get a pint before everyone else shows up?”

“Oh, sure.” Dinner. Right. Harry had said he should join for a get-together afterwards with “some friends.” Louis hadn’t pressed for details so he’d had no idea who that actually meant.

They made their way to a bar around the corner from the restaurant. Niall tried to press him on Harry, but Louis shook his head. “It’s nothing official yet, you know? And nobody knows. So it feels weird to talk about it.”

“Nothing official? Mate, did you or did you not just fly across the ocean to be here for him?”

“Yeah, I know. Can we drop it? I’m really not comfortable getting into it in public.”

So they shot the shit and nursed their respective pints for a bit before they made their way to a very posh restaurant. In their private room, Harry and a handful of other people were already seated at a table. Louis’ stomach sank when he realized that both of the seats next to Harry were already taken. He should have anticipated it – if Harry hadn’t told people that they were dating, then why would anyone leave a seat for a significant other? He tried not to be disappointed and pasted on a smile, calling out a cheerful greeting.

“Louis!” Harry beamed and jumped out of his seat. He wrapped Louis up in a warm hug that probably lasted just a little too long. Harry seemed to realize that, suddenly pulling away to throw his arms around Niall.

Louis accidentally caught the eye of the woman who had been sitting next to Harry. He hadn’t recognized her when he came in. Now she was smirking at him, and the curve of her red lips, the dimples on her cheeks, were all too familiar. “Harry, who’s your friend?” she called out teasingly.

“Oh, yeah! Everyone, this is my friend Louis.” Harry stepped back and started pointing around the table. “Louis, that’s my sister Gemma, and that’s Nick, of course. Jeff, my manager, and his girlfriend Glenne; and this is Ben Winston and his wife Meredith. So, yeah, there you go. Please, take a seat.”

It was galling to have to sit anywhere than right next to Harry. The desire to touch, to kiss, was a restless itch under his skin. Instead, he wasn’t even in the right seat to play footsie under the table. The only comfort was that at least he got to sit by Niall. It helped to feel like he wasn’t alone, surrounded by the rich and/or famous. Niall was a little famous, but not nearly as much as Harry, and anyway he was a friend.

When the conversation wandered too deep into music industry details, Niall whispered a quick aside to Louis to fill him in. That didn’t have to happen much, though. Mostly the conversation was easy and convivial and Louis was able to participate. Mostly, it was fun. There was excellent food and wine, Harry’s friends were beautiful and interesting, and Louis managed not to put his foot in his mouth.

The few awkward moments were bearable. There were some inside jokes and references to people he didn’t know, but the various guests mostly seemed to run in different circles, so the in-group moments weren’t excessive.

Then there was the moment when he made an offhand reference to Massachusetts, and Nick Grimshaw leaned forward and exclaimed, “Wait, _you’re_ Boston?” He looked over at Harry. “I thought he was American.”

Louis raised an eyebrow. “What, do I have a codename now?”

“Shut up, Grimmy,” Harry muttered, his cheeks a bit pink. He picked up a menu and continued, “There were no code names and you just assumed because you’re an idiot. Anyway, who wants dessert?”

So that was interesting.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s friends tried to convince him to go clubbing after dinner, but Harry begged off, claiming to be tired after a long day of filming and performing. Everyone went their separate ways then. The others made it clear that Louis was welcome but didn’t press him to come along. That didn’t hurt his feelings: Niall knew about him and Harry, and he was sure that Gemma and Nick Grimshaw suspected.  He didn’t want to join them anyway, not when he had a text from Harry with a room number and an invitation to join him there.

Louis ducked out first, since there were fewer people to whom he had to properly say goodbye. When he hugged Harry goodbye and congratulated him on his performance like they weren’t going to see each other again soon, it was a true struggle to keep a straight face. It was a good thing he’d switched from drama to physics back at uni.

He skipped the cabs and walked back to the hotel. That would allow time for Harry to make it back. Sure enough, when he knocked on Harry’s door a bit later, it opened almost immediately.

Louis grinned as the door shut behind him. “Déjà vu.”

Harry smiled brightly back even as he said, “What do you mean?”

“I just remember showing up at your hotel after a show this one time,” Louis said, sliding his hands behind Harry’s neck to pull him close. “Only you had more hair then.”

Harry’s arms wrapped around his waist. “That’s the main difference?”

“Yep,” Louis agreed, and pulled him in for a slow kiss. “You were so brilliant up there, Haz. I was swooning like a proper fangirl. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah? You had fun?” Harry beamed.

“Definitely. I’m really glad I came.” Harry’s expression went all sweet and soft at that, and Louis’ heart skipped a beat or two. “So you’ve been talking to Nicholas Grimshaw about me?”

“Just a little bit!” Harry cried defensively. “I just mentioned my friend in Boston a couple times. That’s all.”

“Relax. You can say what you want to your friends. I’m sure you know who to trust.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip. “I should tell you something about Nick. Um, we used to, like, date, him and me. It was kind of a casual thing and then we decided we didn’t really work as a couple but he’s still one of my best friends. It was ages ago and it’s really not a big deal but I don’t want you to think I was hiding something from you.”

“Oh. Okay.” Louis tried to wrap his mind around that one. Harry and Grimshaw? He could see it, he supposed. They were so warm and friendly with one another; they acted like they knew each other extremely well. Louis held felt more than one twinge of jealousy over their closeness tonight. It was almost a relief to know that they’d already been there and done that and decided it wasn’t for them, actually. “Thanks for telling me.”

“Yeah.” Harry smiled and kissed him.

Louis pulled back before the kiss could turn heated. “Um, hey, so, while we’re on the topic. What are we? Is _this_ a casual thing? Are we exclusive?” He grimaced. “I don’t mean to interrogate you. If you don’t want to put any labels on things, that’s fine, I just wanted to ask.”

“Oh.” Harry rubbed Louis’ back with gentle strokes. “I mean, what do you want?”

“I asked first,” Louis replied childishly. “Come on. I want to know what you’re thinking. How you see us.”

To his surprise, Harry pulled him close and buried his face in Louis’ neck, holding him tight and not saying a thing. That didn’t seem like a good sign. Louis’ heart pounded with worry even as he rubbed at the back of Harry’s neck, trying to ease the tension there.

Finally, Harry spoke, muffled against Louis’ shirt. “I didn’t really think this was casual. I kind of thought of us as boyfriends. Is that stupid?”

“You’re ridiculous. Why would that be stupid?” Louis kissed what he could reach of Harry’s face. Giddiness washed over him. “I kind of did too.”

“Really?” Harry lifted his head, finally.

Louis grinned. “Mm-hmm.”

Harry kissed him then, and this time, neither one of them pulled away. They made out lazily for long minutes until Louis decided he was tired of standing. “Some hospitality this is, making me stand around here with my shoes on and everything.”

“What? What do shoes have to do with anything?”

“My feet hurt and I don’t feel sufficiently entertained. Entertain me.”

“You’re being weird.”

Louis stepped back, scowling. “No, I’m not.”

“You are, though.” Harry smiled slowly. “You’re all flustered.”

“I’m definitely not flustered.” Louis turned on his heel so he could pretend Harry wouldn’t see him reach up and feel the warm blush on his cheeks. “I just decided I want a tour of your room, but there’s hardly anything to tour. It’s not nearly as massive and posh as your hotel room in Boston that one time. How disappointing.”

“Is this primary school? Are you being weird because we decided to be boyfriends?” Harry giggled, grabbing Louis’ hand and tugging him toward the bedroom. “Come on, I bet we can find some entertainment in the bed. Or shall I sing to you? _Louis’ my boyfriend…”_ he crooned.

“What is that?!” Louis protested as he followed Harry.

“I’m writing you a song,” Harry announced. He pushed Louis onto the bed. As he worked on unbuttoning Louis’ shirt, he sang, _“My boyfriend is so smart, his ass is a work of art. He came to Manchester and—”_

 _“Listened to you fart,”_ Louis cut in.

Harry immediately cracked up, leaning hard against Louis and shaking with laughter. “Louis! You’re messing up my song!”

“You did accuse me of being in primary school.”

Harry kept laughing, but then, somehow, he started singing again. Louis tried to shout over him or slap a hand over his mouth to stop him, but Harry just kept right on singing and stripping them out of their clothes. The song got sillier and sillier.

“You’re a nutter,” Louis said, staring at Harry’s naked body and wondering how in the hell he was even partway erect. Harry wrapped his hand around Louis’ cock, but even that wasn’t enough to get Louis hard when Harry wouldn’t stop _giggling_ and singing that awful little song. “Do you want to have sex or do you want to keep singing?”

 _“Why not both,”_ Harry sang through his giggles.

“Stop laughing,” Louis wailed.

“I’m actually trying, I can’t!”

Louis grabbed his face and kissed him, but Harry just kept humming and laughing against his lip. Louis pulled back and said tersely, “Ought to put that mouth to better use.”

“Oh,” Harry said, eyes going wide even as another giggle slipped out. His cock twitched against Louis’ leg.

Louis slid up the bed, half-sitting against the headboard, and pulled Harry’s head down with a hand on the back of his neck. “Come on, see if that can shut you up.”

Harry eagerly wrapped his lush lips around the head of Louis’ mostly-soft cock. He was, unbelievably, still giggling, struggling to seal his mouth around Louis as little puffs of air kept forcing themselves out of his lungs. Louis ran his fingers through Harry’s hair and pulled him down, thrusting his hips up at the same time, forcing all of him into Harry’s open mouth. “Come on, gorgeous, be good for me,” he murmured.

Like he’d finally found the right button to push, Harry moaned around him, eyes sliding closed as if he were embarrassed by the sudden flush of his cheeks. With his lips and tongue working around him and those damn giggles finally stopped, Louis was thickening up quickly. “That’s it, babe, so good.”

Harry popped off his dick with a wet sound, hand still stroking him, and looked up at him. “Lou…”

Louis touched Harry’s cheek gently. “What is it?”

“I kind of – I want to eat you out.”

Louis blinked at him. “You do?”

Harry bit his lip and nodded. “Only if you want. Do you – would you like it?”

“You’re unbelievable. Yeah, god, I’d love that.” Louis thought back through his day – when he’d showered, what he’d done since then – and figured that he was probably good to go. “How do you want me?”

Harry was all red when he said, “You could be, like, standing up, leaning against something, if that’s okay? I think that dresser would work.”

“You want to be on your knees, huh? God.” Louis kissed him again, sparing him from having to answer, before he stood. He sauntered over to the dresser. It was somewhat tall so that to lean his elbows on it, he only had to bend over a little, just enough to put a bit of an arch in his spine and display his ass perfectly. He looked over his shoulder and smirked.

Harry’s expression was rapt, as well it should be. He sank down to his knees. Craning his neck, Louis could just see Harry lift his hands to the globes of Louis’ ass, squeezing with his big hands and pulling his cheeks apart. Even knowing that Harry was right there, the first lick came as a shock.

“Oh, God,” Louis groaned. His head was down against the dresser suddenly, without any conscious choice on his part, because _holy fuck,_ Harry was licking him out and that was an awful lot to deal with. He knew that Harry had a talented tongue – mainly due to all the blowjobs, although the way he ate food was downright pornographic, too – but this was on a whole different level. Harry teased him briefly, first pressing his tongue against Louis’ perineum and kneading his ass. Even that had Louis feeling hot all over, but then Harry slowly moved his tongue up, tracing around Louis’ entrance with light tingling pressure. Louis moaned, pushing back a little against Harry to urge him on. Harry made him wait a little longer, probably just on principle.

Then, finally, Harry’s tongue was on his hole, licking across with broad wet strokes. Louis gasped, and Harry moaned. It had been so long since he’d felt this; he was so hot and so, so hard. He wanted to touch himself, but he wanted this to last. He had a guilty thought then that maybe he shouldn’t last too long – maybe this would get uncomfortable for Harry – but then Harry’s tongue was nudging _into_ him, and Louis could barely even stay upright.

He couldn’t believe how loud Harry was, moans and little sighs and wet slurping noises. “You’re so fucking hot,” Louis sighed.

 _“You’re_ so fucking hot,” Harry said, caressing Louis’ balls. “Your ass, god, I could eat you for hours. Is this good?”

“So good, oh my god. But you know you can stop whenever you want, right?”

“Mm-hmm. You want me to stop?”

One of Harry’s fingers rubbed at his hole, the tip just dipping inside, and Louis shivered. “No.”

“Good,” Harry said, hot breath over Louis’ hole, and then he was right back at it.

The things he did with his tongue were unreal, alternating flat-tongued strokes, little licks around his entrance, and deep pulses into him with that obscenely long tongue. It was dizzyingly good.

“I don’t know how much more _I_ can handle,” Louis moaned. “I’m gonna spontaneously combust.”

Harry wrapped a hand around Louis’ dick and made a noise that, somehow, was clearly a question.

“Yes, god, yes. Oh my _god,”_ Louis moaned as Harry started wanking him. “Oh god, oh god, Harry, I’m gonna come if you keep doing that.”

Harry didn’t stop. Well, if that was how he wanted it, Louis definitely did not have the will to argue.

It didn’t take long after that with Harry working him over so thoroughly. He was breathing hard, the tension coiling deep inside him, riding higher and higher on pleasure until suddenly, he was coming. He barely managed to get a hand down in time to try to catch it and not just shoot off all over the hotel floor.

As he came down, he could feel Harry’s face pressed against his thigh, breathing hard. Louis gasped, “Oh my god, that was… oh my god.”

Harry smacked a wet kiss over his hole that made him jump and shudder. Then he laughed and said, “I’m gonna wash my face off, I’ll be right back.”

Louis slid bonelessly to the floor and leaned back against the dresser with a sigh. He was a mess, all wet and sticky, and he truly didn’t care because he felt _amazing._ There was come in his hand; he lazily just smeared it on his body because who gave a fuck anyway.

Harry came back into the room moments later, grinning.

“Don’t you look pleased with yourself,” Louis said. He reached down and slid a finger, still wet with his own come, into himself. “Bet you could fuck me right now. You’ve got me all wet and relaxed. You’d slide right in.”

Harry slid down to the floor next to Louis, far more gracefully than seemed reasonably with such an impressive erection bobbing between his legs, and looked at him with wide eyes. “Do you want that? You like it?”

“Mm-hmm.” Louis pulled him in for a kiss, all hot and dirty. “Haven’t I said this? I like it however. Whatever you want.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, looking interested, but after a moment he shook his head. “Not tonight. I’m so… I wouldn’t last, not after that.”

“Yeah? You just want to come, babe? You certainly deserve it,” Louis said, wrapping a hand around Harry’s cock.

Harry moaned. “Oh, please.”

Louis wasted no time leaning forward to swallow Harry down. Selfishly, he was tired out and wanted Harry to come quickly, but judging by the way Harry moaned and thrust his hips, he didn’t mind. Louis bobbed up and down on his cock, taking him deep and fast, and soon he was swallowing down Harry’s load. He pulled off and leaned his head on Harry’s shoulder; he indulged himself by running his hands lazily down Harry’s chest and stomach to feel him breathing hard.

“Why are we on the floor?” Harry asked after a bit.

Louis laughed and shook his head. Harry giggled and pulled him closer and they cuddled up close there on the cold hotel floor, messy and laughing and happy.


	4. Chapter 4

Afterwards, it was a shock to realize how smoothly the Manchester trip had gone. He’d gotten to see Harry light up the stage, then spent hours wrapped up in Harry in bed. He saw his family on Friday and spent Saturday surreptitiously enjoying Manchester with Harry before he had to fly back to Boston. It had been a lovely long weekend.

He did get another rush of Twitter followers after some eagle-eyed fans spotted him in the audience of Harry's show. More annoyingly, a few fans sent e-mails to his university address, which was posted on the department’s website. It was easy enough to set up a filter and divert anything that mentioned Harry or Niall away from his primary inbox, though. That all felt a bit odd but it was manageable.

The important thing was that being away hadn’t caused him any professional crises. He’d only gotten a few e-mails from students, all easily handled, none of which had complained about him not being there. He hadn’t gotten a great deal of work done, and guilt niggled at him for that, but realistically, he’d planned for this trip and gotten things into a manageable place.

It was all okay. And if he’d managed this one trip, then others were certainly doable, especially if it were over a weekend or to someplace that had a direct flight from Boston. He could manage it. He _would_  manage it, he swore to himself – because Harry was his boyfriend now, and he was worth it.

Louis’ newfound resolve couldn’t change the realities of their summer schedules, though. He had all of the end-of-semester details to deal with, and then a few weeks of getting their summer interns settled where he truly couldn’t leave. Harry sweetly made an effort and made two brief visits to Boston because by the time Louis had a spare moment to travel, Harry was in Jamaica. He was writing his next album and the team had decided on a strict no-visitors policy to allow them to focus.

Louis tried so very hard not to complain. Going six weeks without seeing his boyfriend – well, that sucked, but people dealt with worse situations all the time.

It especially sucked that his boyfriend was in Jamaica, having a fantastic time and being far too busy to call him regularly or text him back promptly. It was okay, though. At least Louis got a lot of work done. He sat around in his un-air-conditioned apartment in his underwear and sweated his way through a paper, even submitting it for publication, and then moved on to edits on another one.

Truly, it wasn’t a terrible summer. He was productive, his intern was reasonably good, and he even took a bit of time for fun. There was a Rhode Island beach day with Liam and ice cold beers on sunny patios. He took to visiting interesting shops and museums on weekends. He found a number of places he thought Harry would like, and as a bonus, he got to enjoy those air-conditioned oases in the midst of the sweaty armpit that was the height of Boston’s summer. It was all fine. He just wished he didn’t miss Harry so badly.

He tried so damn hard to be stoic and supportive. Harry was all delight every time they talked, intoxicated with the beauty of the island and the thrill of creativity. About a month in, though, when he called Louis, his voice was empty of its usual brightness. They were blocked on a song and he’d argued with the guitarist and he had a terrible headache, he explained.

“I wish I could come and give you a hug.” Louis sighed. “Fuck, I miss you.”

“You do?”

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I don’t mean to complain. I know you’re having an amazing time and doing brilliant things and I think it’s great that you’re there.”

“I miss you, too. This no-guests thing was stupid.” Harry chuckled. “I mean, it’s working, so it wasn’t really, but. It’s weird, I feel like the time here is flying by, but it also feels like it’s been so long since I got to see you.”

“You’re coming here when you’re done in Jamaica, right?”

“Right away.”

 

* * *

 

Louis got the call on a Wednesday: Harry and his band had decided that the writing was done and they were departing the next day.

He spent Thursday walking on air and barely able to focus on his work. In the afternoon, he decided to leave a little early. He was walking down the hallway, already thinking about what kind of treat he could pick up on his way home, when a familiar voice called out, “Ducky! Where ya going?”

“Holy shit.” Louis whirled and laughed out loud when he saw the figure walking quickly toward him. “Zany?!”

“The one and only,” Zayn grinned, holding out his arms for a hug.

“You didn’t tell me you were going to be in town!” Louis exclaimed, throwing his arms around Zayn.

“I posted about it on Twitter. I’m here for SIGGRAPH.”

“I didn’t see it. That’s this week? Man, I can’t keep up with Twitter these days. So you decided to just show up and see if I was around?”

“Nah, I was meeting some people at the CS department here and I thought I’d see afterwards if you were around. I was going to text you if I didn’t find you. You want to go grab a drink?”

“Ah, man. Tonight’s not great for me. What about tomorrow?”

Zayn’s face fell. “I’m busy with the conference shit all day tomorrow, like literally eight AM to ten PM, and then I’m flying out on Friday. You sure you can’t—”

“Zayn?”

Louis turned in surprise to see Liam approaching. “Hey, Li. You know Zayn?”

Liam waved a little awkwardly. “Yeah, I don’t know if you remember me? I was Margo Peng’s housemate at Tech for a while?”

“Oh, yeah!” Zayn’s face lit up. “I remember. Cool, man, I didn’t know you were here now. Hey, you should come get a drink with me and Ducky. You still keep in touch with Margo and Danny and all of them?”

“Um, I’m gonna make a quick call,” Louis interrupted. Their catching up would keep them occupied while he rang Harry. He quickly ducked back into his office and hit the button to call.

“Louis!” Harry answered brightly. “Hey, I’m about to get off the plane. What’s up?”

“Uh, well. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned my friend Zayn – he’s a computer science professor in California now, but we were really good friends in grad school. I guess he’s in town for a conference. He just showed up at my office and was asking if we could go for a drink, and, like, I’m dying to see you but it’s also my only chance to see him, and I feel awful for asking but would you mind if I go grab a drink with him and Liam? For, like, an hour, tops.”

“Oh, I see. Of course you don’t want to miss your chance to see your friend… Hey, I should just come with you. Then you don’t have to miss out on anything!”

“Oh! Well, sure,” Louis said slowly. Harry’s sudden enthusiasm confused him. “You actually want to? You really don’t have to. We’ll probably be terribly boring.”

“No, no. If we have other people for cover, we could even go someplace cool. I heard about this amazing new Asian fusion restaurant, but it sounded maybe a little too hip for us to fly under the radar there. Let me ring them to make sure we can get a table and then I’ll text you the info, all right?”

“Um, okay.”

A bit stunned, Louis went to find Zayn and Liam. They had vanished from the hall but he soon tracked them down in Liam’s office. He cleared his throat and announced, “So I can come for drinks after all. And, uh, my boyfriend’s coming.”

“Oh, we get to meet the mystery man?” Liam grinned.

Zayn raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wait, you have a boyfriend? Why is he a ‘mystery man’?”

Louis took a deep breath and steeled himself. Best to just rip off the band-aid, so to speak. “Well, the thing is, my boyfriend is Harry Styles.”

He had imagined a lot of possible responses to this revelation. Somehow, he’d never anticipated Liam and Zayn giving him identical blank looks and saying, “Who?”

 

* * *

 

“This place is way too cool for me,” Liam whispered.

He wasn’t wrong. The place looked like it had been designed by checking off a list of every current decor trend and it was filled with beautiful, stylish people. Of the three of them, only Zayn looked like he belonged there, with his purple-tipped hair, nose ring, and tattoos. Louis and Liam were both wearing t-shirts and jeans. Louis at least was wearing one of his nicer shirts since he was expecting Harry, but poor Liam was the kind of ugly shirt you get for free at a conference and wear because you don't feel like doing laundry yet.

Louis shrugged. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” He shot the others a grin, squared his shoulders, and followed the elegant waitress through the restaurant.

Harry was already seated at a table towards the back. He was gorgeous as always; his hair looked soft and he was wearing a charming paisley print. He beamed and waved. It was criminally unfair that Louis couldn’t sweep him into his arms and kiss him senseless that very moment.

Instead, he had to smile politely, pull out the chair diagonally across from Harry, and say, “Hey, Hazza. This is Liam, and this is Zayn. Guys, this is Harry.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” Harry said, shaking their hands in turn. “Thanks for letting me crash your party.”

“Oh, the more the merrier,” Liam said easily. “Man, you do look kind of familiar. This is going to bug me now.”

Louis grinned sheepishly at Harry’s curious expression and admitted, “They didn’t know who you were. So I decided I just would not fill them in and see what happens.”

Harry laughed and shook his head. “Only you, Louis. Well, I think that’s nice. It’s good not to have preconceived notions. Anyway, we should order some stuff whilst it’s still happy hour.”

They picked out a selection of drinks and appetizers and then set to catching up. Louis and Zayn had gone to grad school together, but had seen each other only once or twice since they’d both graduated and gone off to postdocs. Liam’s connection was that he had been housemates in graduate school with a woman who went to college with Zayn. 

After sorting out the gossip on their mutual acquaintances, Zayn asked them all what they were working on. Louis was rambling on about nebula formation when he caught a bit of movement and glanced over to see Harry propping his chin on his hand, watching him with a small smile. Louis broke off with a self-conscious laugh. “I’m sorry, Harry, this must be so boring.”

“No, no. I mean, I only half understand what you’re saying, but it sounds very smart. I like it.”

Zayn said, “Not a STEM guy? Are you in the humanities, Harry? A writer or something?”

Harry smiled and wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, you could say that. I’d ask what you study, but if you’re in computers, I probably understand even less of that than Lou’s work.”

“I don’t know about that. I do work in computer vision and graphics, so at least at a high level it’s pretty accessible. Hey, do you guys want to see what I presented at SIGGRAPH? I have it on my phone.”

“Oh, yeah!” Louis cried.

“What’s SIGGRAPH?” Harry asked.

“It’s a computer graphics conference,” Zayn said, thumbing through his phone. He turned it toward them and started playing a video. “Yeah, here. So, see, this is showing first, we’re tracking moving objections, then we’re tracking and identifying them even as we change perspective or they go behind another object, and then we’re modifying them…”

“Oh, wow,” Harry said, looking rapt. “I always wondered how they did that kind of thing, like, erasing the wires holding up a performer in a video or something.”

Louis snickered. He knew which one of his music videos Harry was probably thinking of.

“What’s really sexy about this is our new fast algorithm that can do this in real time,” Zayn noted.

Liam shook his head admiringly. “Man, that’s crazy.”

“I’ve never heard anyone call an algorithm sexy before,” Harry drawled.

Zayn slipped his phone back into his pocket with a grin. “You know what I bet wouldn’t bore Harry to death? Grad school stories. I have _so_ much dirt on Ducky.”

Louis groaned. “Zayn, no.”

“Zayn, yes!” Harry said. “Why do you call him Ducky?”

“You know that saying, how ducks are calm on top, paddling furiously underneath? That was this one in grad school. He always knocking off at four to go to happy hour and it never seemed like he did anything, except he kept publishing papers and he graduated in five years.”

“Is that fast?”

“Yes,” Zayn said over Louis’ protests. “It’s how long it’s supposed to take, but for a lot of people it’s six or seven years, or even more.”

“I think I could’ve done it in four if it hadn’t been for everything that happened my third year.” Louis grimaced. “Everything was fine in the end, but that’s not a fun story. Zayn, tell a fun story.”

That was a tactical error: Zayn told the story of Louis getting extremely smashed three weeks into their first semester and waxing poetic about his advisor’s very shapely ass. Louis wondered how much they'd all have to drink for Liam and Harry to forget that horrifying anecdote. 

 

* * *

 

“That was fun,” Harry said, sprawling out on Louis’ sofa with his shoes still on. “Your friends are fun. You know, you could tell more people about us, if you wanted.”

“Oh, okay. I didn’t realize.” Louis sat down on the couch by Harry’s legs, nudging them back to make room. He couldn’t particularly think of who he’d want to tell, besides his mother, but he supposed it was nice to have the option. He could gush to Liam now, anyway, especially once Liam figured out who Harry was. “Do you want to tell more people? Or, have you told people already?”

“I’ve told a couple friends, and Gemma, because she asked. And the guys I was writing with, because, like, it’s important to be able to be open with people you write with and be able to trust them and stuff.”

“Huh. I can’t imagine telling my colleagues,” Louis admitted. He wished he could call back the thoughtless words when a stricken look crossed Harry’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Just, people would be really surprised.” Louis laughed weakly. What a terrible save. Thank God he knew better than to blurt out his real worries: that the other professors would laugh about his boyband boyfriend, that they might gossip. That they wouldn’t take him seriously once they knew he was dating some _celebrity_ and not another academic. He knew just how they would see it.  “They probably wouldn’t believe me.”

Harry frowned. “So you show them a picture or something.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Louis turned and started untying Harry’s shoes. “I also don’t know a lot of them well. Hard to know who’s trustworthy, you know?”

“You think a physics professor is going to sell me out to the tabloids?” Harry said skeptically.

“Well, no, but you never know, huh?”

“I don’t think they would. I’d be okay with it if you wanted to tell them.”

“Thanks, hon. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

“Okay. Well, I have another thought for you to think about.”

“Oh, boy. What is it?”

“I want to take you to Jamaica. I was thinking later this month, after your intern is gone, before classes start. Just you and me. It’s such a wonderful place and I’d really love to take you there.”

Louis blew out a long breath and sat back. “Oh. Well, my knee jerk reaction is no way, of course, but let me think about how I’d make that work.”

“Okay. Thanks,” Harry said, wrapping a hand around Louis’ ankle and stroking over his ankle bone.

Speaking slowly as he thought out loud, Louis mused, “I don’t feel like I can take a lot of time off, like completely one hundred percent off, but if it was just a weekend, I could do that. Or if it was longer, I could kind of stockpile work I can do remotely. If you can put up with me working, I can handle being gone for a little while.”

“Oh, Lou.” Harry sat up quickly to wrap him in a hug. “We can make that work. It’ll be so great. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit,” Louis said.

Harry just laughed and walked into the building, duffel bags over each shoulder. “Wait until you see the other side.”

Louis didn’t follow right away. He took his time staring around, taking it all in. For the next five nights, they were staying not in a hotel room but in what Harry had called a “villa.” It was a compact two-story building with a white-paneled exterior – nothing too extravagant if it were a home, certainly, but it seemed like an awful lot for two people on vacation. It was surrounded by greenery, palm trees, and riotously bright flowers.

He was almost nervous to go inside. This definitely wasn’t the kind of place he belonged. They’d sniff him out and then kick him out of the resort eventually, probably.

On the other hand, his bags were getting heavy, and he really wanted to go put them down, so in he went.

“The bedroom’s upstairs,” Harry said. “Here, bring your stuff and I’ll show you around.”

Though the rooms weren’t massive, they felt spacious thanks to breezy windows, simple but elegant furnishings made mostly of natural materials, and clever layouts. It was lovely. There was an outdoor shower and bath _plus_ an indoor shower. There was a little kitchen and a comfortable living room. There was even an office, featuring a desk, chair, and loveseat, which Harry showed him with a proud little smile, saying, “I made sure there was a place for you to work in privacy, if you wanted.”

The best part, though, was the back porch. Louis gasped when he stepped out the back door. The steps from the porch led not to a garden or to a pathway but directly into clear, calm blue water, surrounded by gently waving trees. “This is _insane.”_

Harry looked very pleased with himself. “I thought the lagoon seemed so nice. You can swim in it, and I got us some stand-up paddleboards so we can try that out. They have kayaks and loads of other things to do, too, if you like.”

“Wow.” Louis leaned against the railing and took it all in. Presumably there were other villas parallel to theirs along the lagoon, but they were so screened off by plants that he couldn’t see them. It was serene and incredibly beautiful.

Faced with all that, there was really only one thing to do.

Louis grabbed Harry and kissed him hard. Then he tossed off his shirt, took a few steps back, and took a running leap off the veranda.

He hit the water with a shout followed by a mighty splash. Instead of the cold shock that he expected, the water was perfectly warm. His feet brushed against the bottom and he pushed up to the surface, laughing in happy surprise as he came back out into the air.

He caught a flash of bare skin before Harry splashed down next to him. Louis sputtered and spat slightly-salty water from his mouth. Harry popped up and Louis batted water at him. “Are you naked?!”

It was a rhetorical question; the lagoon water was clear and hid nothing. Harry just grinned at him.

Louis tried to look scandalized. “There could be other people here.”

“I know, but they’re not out here right _now.”_ Harry scrunched up his nose and smiled. “I’ll put my shorts on soon. I bet you don’t really mind, though.”

“Obviously _I_ don’t mind, but think of the children.”

They floated and flirted for a little while, admiring the area and each other. Finally, Louis asked, “So what’s the agenda?”

“First of all, we’re on holiday. The agenda starts and stops with doing whatever we want and having a nice time.”

Louis looked at him blankly. “You can’t possibly have not planned anything.”

“I have ideas, just not plans. I want to do stand-up paddleboarding and swim a lot and have sex and relax. We could get massages, we could go to the beach, we could snorkel. There’s a glass-bottomed boat that will take you to see fish and corals. The kitchen is stocked so we can just cook here, or there’s a few restaurants here that are supposed to be excellent. I think there’s a whole binder in there full of things to do that you should look at,” Harry said, waving vaguely at the house. “I just have one request: no working today?”

“I’m knackered from getting here, so, okay.”

Harry smiled, drifting closer to him through the warm water. “Good. You need to unwind a little.”

“And _you_ need to put some clothes on, because there’s a kayak headed this way,” Louis laughed.

 

* * *

 

For the first few days, they landed on an easy routine. Louis woke first, made himself a cuppa, and grabbed himself an assortment of snacks to eat while he worked in the office. He wrote or read or processed data for a couple hours until he heard a little splash outside. He’d watch Harry swim for a few minutes until he got bored, then go back to work. They ate lunch together, either at the house or at the resort restaurant. After a bit more work, they’d spend the afternoon and evening having fun together, enjoying the area’s amenities or each other’s company.

On the fourth day, Harry got up early and they went out on the glass-bottomed boat. It was marvelous to see all the brightly-colored fish darting around under their feet. Louis didn’t know a thing about marine life, but that was why there was a very knowledgeable tour guide. Harry wrapped an arm around Louis and held him close even though there were other tourists on the boat with them. It gave Louis a confused thrill – nervous, but so happy to be in Harry’s arms. If only real life were so simple.

They walked through the resort hand-in-hand after, back to their villa for a snack.  “What do you want to do next?” Harry asked as he pulled some cubed mango from the refrigerator.

“I don’t know.” Louis glanced guiltily toward the office. “I was supposed to be finished with this one bit of code yesterday, but it still has some bug and I can’t figure out what.”

Harry frowned. “You can’t seriously be thinking about working. It’s our last full day here. You can work it out on the plane tomorrow.”

“I know, I just, I promised myself I’d get that finished.”

“Well, sometimes there are snags. You can’t help that. And you promised me you’d actually take some time off and stop working for once. You have to figure out how to set your work aside sometimes, Lou.”

Louis bristled. “What do you think I’ve been doing every day here? We’ve done all kinds of things that weren’t work!”

“You’ve still put in hours every day, though. You think about it all the time. I don’t think it’s healthy. Can’t you let it go for a day?”

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Louis said, sullenly accepting a bowl of fruit that Harry handed him.

“You don’t think I know what it’s like to work long hours in a high-pressure job? To be stressed all the time about succeeding and all the things I need to do to make that happen?”

“It’s different.”

Harry shrugged. “In the details, sure, but. Not that different in some ways. I had to learn how to turn it off sometimes so I can actually recharge and not go crazy.”

Louis aggressively speared a piece of mango with his fork. “Is that why you never tell me anything?”

“What?”

“I was reading a magazine someone left on the plane and this article said you’re in a movie coming out in a few months.” Louis studiously inspected the fruit rather than Harry’s face. “You never even mentioned it.”

“You’re changing the subject. I wasn’t trying to start a fight, I was just trying to convince you to have fun with me today.”

“You can’t expect me to not be a little offended when you call me a workaholic! And I can’t believe you’re refusing to tell me about this even though it’s public knowledge and I _asked_ you about it!”

“I didn’t call you a workaholic,” Harry said in a small voice. “Or I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. And the movie filmed before – back in the winter. Before we got back in touch. I didn’t know when I could talk about it.”

“It’s not just about that,” Louis said. He dropped his head to the table, hiding his face in his arms, and wondered why he felt like crying all of a sudden. “Ugh, forget it. Let’s do something. Let’s go to the beach.”

Harry kissed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stress you out.”

“It’s okay. Let’s just go do something cool.” Louis managed not to sigh, managed to lift his head and smile instead.

They walked on the beach and swam a bit, then went for lunch. After, Harry decreed they should go out on the paddleboards again. Louis was all for that until Harry carefully stowed his paddle and decreed that they were going to do yoga.

“Out here? On the lagoon?” Louis asked indignantly.

“Yes! It’s fun. It’ll be relaxing. If you get hot, you can just hop in the lagoon.”

“This sounds terrible.”

Louis let Harry coach him through a series of poses anyway. It was a bit difficult, the board wobbling underneath him and the sun beating down from above, but he felt oddly satisfied by the time Harry declared they were done. Louis immediately hopped off the board into the warm water, resting his head and arms on the board and kicking his feet idly.

Harry laid down on his board, dangling his limbs in the water, and watched him with a neutral expression. “That wasn’t really so terrible, right?”

“It wasn’t the worst,” Louis admitted. He kicked a little more purposefully, bringing his board close enough to nudge up against Harry. Abruptly, he said, “I didn’t always work like this, you know.”

Harry hummed. “I sort of wondered, from the way Zayn talked about you.”

“Yeah. He gave me that nickname the first couple years.” Louis smiled fondly. “I felt like I really hit my stride in the second year. When inspiration struck, I would get so much done in just a few hours. So when I wasn’t feeling inspired, I just went with it. Things weren’t that structured in my department. Unless I was teaching a class or I had scheduled lab time, I could just do what I wanted, when I wanted to. So I worked when the physics muse spoke to me and I got a lot done and it was pretty fun. Hard work, but good.”

Harry pulled an arm out of the water to rest his cheek on it. “What changed?”

“My mum got sick.” He looked away, hating the way his voice wobbled on the words, even now. “She’s okay now. Coming up on five years in remission. But when she got sick, it was the worst feeling. I was going to take a term off, but she said I absolutely shouldn’t. So instead I was flying back and forth to be there whenever I could, because, I mean, we didn’t… yeah. We hoped for the best, obviously, but. We didn’t know what would happen. And I wanted to be there for the kids. So when I was at school, I had to learn how to just buckle down and get shit done when I had the time, so when I was with my family, I could leave that behind and just be with them.”

“Oh. That sounds really hard.”

“Yeah,” Louis breathed out. He let himself float in the water and tried not to dwell on those horrible months – all the fear and worry, all of his mum’s stoic suffering, all the damn hospitals and procedures. He cleared his throat and focused on the sunlight and the trees around them. “Then when I started my postdoc – my boyfriend at the time and I, we broke up when I moved away, and I sort of figured, like, these are my make-or-break years. There’s no reason not to just put everything into my work now, and so many good reasons _to_ do that, do you see what I mean?”

Harry frowned. “Sounds like a good way to be supremely burnt out in five years. That’s what it was with the band. It was pretty successful for a while there but we didn’t want to keep going, we just wanted a fucking nap.” Louis laughed, but if anything Harry only looked more serious when he continued, “You deserve to have some time to yourself, Lou. It doesn’t have to be only because someone else needs you.”

“Oh, come on. As if you’re a disinterested party. Weren’t you literally asking me to not work and hang out with _you_ instead like two hours ago?”

Harry flicked water towards him. “I’m serious. I mean, yes, I like getting your time and attention, obviously, but even if it weren’t for me. It’d do you some good to spend some of your days not stressing about work constantly.”

“You don’t know what—”

“Louis,” Harry whined. “Would you maybe just consider what I’m saying and not argue with me? You don’t have to concede that I’m right, just bloody think about it.”

Louis glared and splashed water back at him. “Whatever, fine.”

“I can’t believe you’re mad at me for wanting you to actually enjoy being in a tropical paradise.” Harry shook his head with a little laugh. “Come on, Lou, we could do anything you want. We could get massages or ride horses on the beach or, I don’t know, go meet parrots, or go shopping for ridiculous shit, or just get really hammered on tropical cocktails. Anything.”

“You’re honestly the worst. But also kind of the best. That’s so annoying. Like, pick a lane and stay in it, Styles.”

Harry giggled. “Looou, come on.”

“What I want most is…” He grinned. “A blowjob.”

“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so.” Harry stood up fluidly on the board, drawing Louis’ eyes to his sweaty skin and the lean muscles of his body. “That’s an easy one.”

A decadent half-hour getting each other off in the outdoor shower left both of them with sore knees but much happier dispositions. Louis then decided that they should go shopping, mostly because he was curious what the Harry-Styles-goes-shopping experience was like. The resort they were staying at was fairly small, which meant it didn't have much in the way of shopping. A proper city was too far away to be worth the travel time, but it was only a twenty-minute drive to a resort that the concierge deemed to have good enough shopping for them.

Even there, the options were limited. They spent an entertaining hour browsing the handful of luxury shops, though, trying on silky tropical prints and linen trousers. A number of the shirts really did suit Harry’s taste. He set a handful of favorites aside. “You should get something, Louis.”

“I’ve been told I’m an autumn,” Louis said airily. “Jewel tones or bust. Don't get me started on all these pastels.”

“I thought this one looked nice on you.” It was a less gaudy print than some, a rich cerulean blue over a lighter blue background.

“I can’t even remember the last time I wore a shirt with a print other than stripes.”

“This could be the start of a whole new era for you, then. Or it could just be your one fun fancy shirt.” Harry shrugged.

Louis ran his fingers over the cloth. It felt lovely. He sighed and lowered his voice. “I’m not trying to be talked into it. I can’t have you buying me some absurdly expensive shirt on top of everything else.”

“Ah, so that’s it,” Harry said. He carefully set the shirt down with his selections.

“Harry!”

Harry hummed a quiet melody as he scooped up the shirts and handed them to the shop girl who came hurrying over. He passed her a credit card. “We’ll take these, thanks.”

“Harry, seriously…”

“It’s my money. I can buy you a shirt if I want to,” Harry murmured, sliding an arm around Louis’ waist. “Now, what do you say we get massages after this?”

Louis wrinkled his nose. “Must we?”

“What, you don’t like massages?”

“I mean, I’ve gotten backrubs from friends that I liked fine. I just think it sounds really weird to get naked and have some stranger touch me for, like, an hour. It sounds awkward and dead boring.”

“You’ve never had a professional massage?” Harry asked in disbelief.

Louis snorted. “You do realize that it’s not, like, a normal thing to go get massages all the time, right?”

“Okay, command decision, massages next.” 

 

* * *

 

The massage wasn’t the worst thing ever. Louis did feel that it had been a _bit_ excessive, but he couldn’t deny how amazingly relaxed he felt after.

They went for dinner after, and then to the resort’s beachside bar for delicious cocktails. They danced in the shadows and took dips into the water and lounged in beach chairs to dry off, marveling at how warm it still was. Louis looked out over the water and sipped his mojito, tipsy and content. “I can’t believe I have to go home tomorrow.” Back to Boston, back to his life, back to work. He’d have to start planning for the next semester in earnest and start working on grant applications with his group and somehow also keep trying to figure out how to be a good boyfriend again. He sighed.

“Don’t start stressing now,” Harry said with a low laugh. “Drink your mojito. We can always come back, you know.”

What a thought that was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, the place where Harry and Louis stay in Jamaica is based on/inspired by [this resort](https://www.goldeneye.com/). Researching this while it was 10°F and snowing where I live made me really, really want to go to Jamaica.


	5. Chapter 5

Louis had hated the start of a new school year when he was younger because it meant that the holiday was over. These days, it was one of his favorite parts of the year. Everyone on campus was full of energy and motivation. It always had the feeling of a fresh start, full of opportunities and possibilities. Even the clueless giddiness of the freshmen was briefly charming.

He saw Harry several times in September. One time, he even went to New York to meet up with him. Harry had a photoshoot there and not quite enough spare time around it to travel to Boston, so Louis went to him. He sat in the studio and during the boring bits he answered e-mails, but mostly he watched. There was a lot involved in the shoot: people moving lights around, touching up makeup, switching clothing around. There were so many poses and angles. It wasn’t the most exciting thing to watch, to be sure, except that he never minded getting to stare at Harry.

Aside from that one time, Harry came to him. They stayed in a lot, cooking and watching movies and playing games and just spending time together. There was a Sunday when Harry showed up still hungover from a party the night before. Louis brought him painkillers and cool wet cloths to put on his aching head and sat on the couch with him. Harry curled up on his side and watched TV while Louis worked on addressing a reviewer’s comments on a paper he’d submitted. Harry kept sighing and apologizing for being so pathetic and foolish. Louis was just happy to have him there, though, no matter what.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Lou, do you like driving?”

It was mid-October. Louis was washing some dishes while Harry flipped through the local alt-weekly.

“How do you mean? My car’s a piece of shit and Boston drivers are all insane, so, not really these days.”

“No, I meant, like, in general.”

“I mean, I guess. Sure, as much as anyone. Why?”

“I’m going to buy a car. I probably already know what I want, but we could go test drive really nice cars for fun first.”

Louis blinked at him. “Um, yeah, that sounds cool, but, why would you buy a car here?”

“Well, so I can have a car here. I like to drive myself and I’m here often enough. I might as well.”

“Where are you going to keep a car?” Louis asked, baffled. “I only have the one parking space. I don’t think it’s okay to just leave a car on the street for weeks at a time.”

“Oh, I’ll leave it at my flat,” Harry said casually, flipping the page of the newspaper.

“What?!”

“I mean, in the building’s parking garage, not actually _inside_ the flat.” Harry laughed.

“Yeah, that’s not – I meant _what flat?”_

“I bought a flat downtown,” Harry said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like it was something Louis should already know.

Louis most definitely did not already know. “I’m sorry, did I miss something? When did this happen?”

“A couple weeks ago.” Harry shrugged.

“A couple—” Louis clamped down on his words and breathed in loudly through his nose. Yeah, he was going to need a few minutes to process this before he should say anything. He shook water from his hands, walked off to his bedroom, and managed, with great restraint, to not even slam the door.

Louis had always had a temper. He’d grown up in a loud, boisterous family of people who were bad at biting their tongues. Yelling over each other or at each other was how they did things. Nobody thought it was scary. It was just how they argued. Hell, it was just how they talked. They got things off their chests and then they got over it.

That had served him fine with his university boyfriend, but the guy he’d dated for several years of grad school had freaked right the fuck out over it. His instinct had been to run and hide, not to dish the attitude right back like Louis expected. What Louis said in the heat of the moment, John always took extremely personally. He couldn’t adapt to Louis’ style of arguing, so Louis had tried to adapt to his. He’d found that his first, instinctive response was usually not a helpful one when he was upset, so he’d learned how to step back and take the time to get past that moment.

Louis was glad now that he’d practiced those skills. If anything, Harry was even more sensitive and less confrontational than John.

He snatched a pillow from his bed and pressed it into his face to yell into it, letting out all the things he wanted to say. _(What in the actual hell? How could you buy a flat without even telling me? Did you even think I might want to give some input? Why am I living in this shitty little apartment when we could live in whatever amazing place you can afford? Do I even get to see this goddamn flat? How the fuck can you be so committed to this relationship that you bought a fucking flat in my city and yet you care about me so little that you didn’t even tell me? You don’t tell me anything! This is ridiculous!)_

It took some time to master his feelings. He couldn’t get around feeling hurt and angry, but at least he could probably manage not to bite Harry’s head off. He tried to think of what he could say, and how he could ask all the questions in his mind without being confrontational.

A knock on his bedroom door made him jump, startled out of his thoughts. “What?”

“Should I go?” Harry asked from the other side of the door.

“No!” Louis cried. “What? Of course not.”

He hurried to open the door and found Harry on the other side, wide-eyed, biting his lip, and already wearing his coat. Exasperated, Louis snapped, “Oh, take your coat off. I don’t want you to leave. I want to talk to you. I just needed a minute.”

“I don’t know. Suddenly you’re so mad that you couldn’t even look at me and I don’t know why.”

Louis sighed and grabbed his hand, sitting back on his bed and pulling Harry with him. “I just needed a minute. I didn’t want to snap at you.”

Harry’s eyes got even wider. “So you _are_ really mad at me.”

“You bought a flat here without even telling me!” Well, so much for not snapping.

“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Harry frowned. “It’s mostly just for show anyway.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“People are asking questions about me being in Boston so much. If I have a home here, then it makes more sense why I’m here so much. I’m trying to figure out how I can be here more without, you know, drawing a lot of attention to you and making your life difficult and making too many rumors.”

Louis blinked at him. “So why didn’t you just tell me that?”

Harry shrugged, looking away as he took off his coat. “Dunno. I really didn’t think it was a big deal. I suppose I felt like it was my problem to figure out? It didn’t necessarily concern you?”

“It doesn’t _concern_ me? If you’re doing things for _our_ relationship then I think it bloody concerns me!”

“No, that came out wrong! More like, I didn’t want to bother you with it? Or. I don’t know.”

“God, Harry, talking about your life and our relationship isn’t a bother! Being kept in the dark and being shut out, _that_ bothers me. And then you just drop something huge, like, I bought a flat in your city, and you act like it’s nothing. I’m like, did I miss something? Am I even allowed to ask about this or am I just supposed to accept whatever you’ve just dropped on me? It’s _really_ confusing. I mean, I assume you didn’t just wake up one day and buy a flat in five minutes. You must’ve been thinking about this and figuring it out for a while. Why didn’t you tell me anything in that time? I mean, I’d want to know anything about your life anyway, because I care about you, but especially something that’s about _us.”_

Harry drew in on himself, pulling his knees up to his chest to perch, still and contained, on the bed, as Louis spoke. Louis sighed heavily as he wound down. “And now I’m ranting and upsetting you. Shit. I’m sorry. I mean, I meant what I said, but I didn’t mean to say it like that. Sorry.”

“I thought it was a nice thing.” Harry rested his face on his knees. His hair fell into his eyes. “I thought you’d be happy about it.”

“Maybe if you’d explained it and I had any idea what was going on,” Louis said, and laughed bitterly. “You’re so mysterious, Harry. I get why your life would’ve made you secretive but I wish you didn’t feel like you had to keep secrets from me.”

Harry frowned. “I don’t keep secrets from you.”

Louis shrugged. He didn’t know what to say to that when it was demonstrably untrue.

“I know I don’t tell you everything, but.” Harry grimaced. “I tell you loads of things. I don’t tell anybody everything. I’m sure you don’t tell _me_ everything.”

“I guess. I’m just saying that I wish you’d tell me a bit more. You really are quite mysterious sometimes.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the flat. I suppose that was weird.”

“Little bit,” Louis agreed wryly. “Can I hug you now?”

Harry gave him a small smile. “Okay.”

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry and held him for a long moment, marveling over Harry’s complexities and contradictions. “So you really bought a flat so you could hang out with me more?”

“Ah, that’s how I should’ve told you about it.”

Louis chuckled and gave him a squeeze. “Where is it? Is it a big secret or can I see it?”

“I haven’t even been to it yet,” Harry admitted wryly. “Let’s go tonight, once it’s late.”

 

* * *

 

Harry’s flat was in a tall building in the Back Bay overlooking the Charles River. Harry explained the plan as they went along: how his team would leak information about the sale, how his more aggressive fans would figure out the location and then lurk around the building whenever they heard he was in town. That, along with getting spotted at a few high-society hot spots, should keep people who were hunting for him on the wrong track.

“That’s really elaborate,” Louis marveled.

“Is it? I don’t know. It’s not that much work and it ought to be worth it. Here we are, it’s this door.”

The apartment was absurdly nice, of course. The kitchen was as big as Louis’ living room, and the living room was as big as Louis’ entire apartment. The bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows, which made Louis grin. “Remember what we did last time we were in a place with windows like this?”

Harry flushed. “You’re scandalous, Lou.”

Louis laughed and spun around, taking it all in. The place was already furnished, though to his eye it was rather sparse. Everything was simple, clean, and modern. “God, I can’t believe you just bought a place here. That’s so bizarre. So you’re not even going to live here? Really? It’s so nice.”

“I might spend a night or two here when it makes sense – I mean, no point in paying for a hotel if I have this. And I can let friends and family use it and store some things here if I want to, so there’s that. But I mean, if I’m in Boston then I’m probably here to be with you, so…”

Louis let himself fall onto the bed just to try it out. It turned out to be memory foam, with no bounce to it. Ick. He scrambled up quickly and started poking around the closets. “If only we could do it the other way around. Tell your stalkers that you’re living in my crappy apartment and we’d stay here instead.”

“Oh!” Harry sounded startled. At the sound of a smack, Louis turned to see Harry with his hand on his forehead. “I didn’t think – I mean, I could help you get someplace bigger or—”

“Oh my god, stop talking. I’m joking. Don’t _actually_ offer me a flat.”

“But I mean, we could find a place that was a bit nicer and bigger. I don’t have to buy it if you don’t want, I could just help pay for it. Like a flatmate. It might make sense if I’m going to be around more. Then it wouldn’t feel like I was getting in your space all the time.”

Louis stared at him in amazement. Was Harry basically suggesting that they move in together? Louis could barely contemplate it at the moment. He was still a little cross with Harry and all that came to mind were all the ways that could go wrong.  “I can’t. My lease isn’t up until July.”

“Hmm. Well, it might be worth thinking about.”

Louis narrowed his eyes. “You understand that if you expected me to live in a place, then I’d better be involved in picking it, right?”

“Oh, come on, I’m not a complete idiot,” Harry cried.

“Just checking.” He went over to Harry and kissed him to sweeten his words. “Don’t be mad. I’ll let you do dirty things to me before we leave here.”

Harry grabbed Louis around the waist and kissed him deeply. “How can I say no to an offer like that?”

 

* * *

 

More of Harry’s things ended up in Louis’ apartment after that. He had a drawer, a shelf, and a toothbrush. They went to a few galleries and when a particular painting caught Louis’ eye, Harry bought it for him. It cost more than his month’s rent and it didn’t fit at all with his low-budget furniture but he loved it.

He liked having Harry around. They worked well together. It got easier and easier to imagine getting a place that was _theirs_ and not just _his._ It felt too soon, but maybe someday.

He liked the idea of Harry making a place in his life, building that space and then tucking himself into it. There was the fact, though, that Boston was almost Louis’ whole life, but it could never be more than a part of Harry’s. Harry was London and Holmes Chapel and Los Angeles and Jamaica and all the other places that he loved and lived in. That was fine, sort of, for his long-distance lover. He wasn’t sure what it would mean for Harry to be his live-in boyfriend and still be everything else that he was.

He needed to make an effort to understand Harry more, to be more a part of his life. It was simply impossible to be as involved as he’d like to be, but he could do more, perhaps.

“I was thinking of visiting you in LA sometime,” Louis announced one day.

“I’d like that,” Harry said immediately, looking up from his book. “Are you talking hypothetically, or, like, wanting to actually plan something?”

“Actually planning.”

“Oh! Brilliant. Let me pull up my calendar.”

“I think it should be sometime when I have a holiday. It’s such a long flight just for a regular weekend. Maybe after Christmas?”

Harry frowned as he scrolled through his calendar. “Mm, let’s see. I’m in the UK from a bit before Christmas until the middle of January. Oh! Here, in late November – I think that’s Thanksgiving weekend? That’s when the movie I’m in has its Hollywood premiere. You could come!”

“To a movie premiere? Really? Oh, wow, that would be so cool. I think I could manage that.” Louis glanced through his own calendar. They had the whole week off for Thanksgiving, so in theory, he could travel then. He did have a grant proposal due at the end of November. Going to LA would mean being gone the weekend before, but that should be all right. He’d be better off getting it done before then anyway. If he didn’t, well, he’d have some long flights to work on it, and he could carve out some work time if he needed. “Yeah. I think that’ll work.”

Harry beamed at him. “Oh, I’m excited already. This will be great.”

“So are you very busy in November? Lots of premieres and stuff?”

“Sort of, yeah. It’s mostly concentrated into a couple weeks, but I’ll have occasional promo stuff through January, I think.” He paused and glanced over at Louis. Then he looked back down at his phone and started tapping on things. “Here, why don’t I share some of my Google calendars with you. Just be careful and don’t let anyone else see them, okay?”

“Of course!” Louis felt like his heart would swell right out of his chest. This was a massive sign of trust, an amazing surprise. “Harry. Thank you.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Harry said with a small smile, like he hadn’t spent months and months keeping his own counsel and not telling Louis much more about his schedule than what he needed to know.

“It is, and I appreciate it. Here, I’ll share mine with you, too.”

 

* * *

 

Louis landed in Los Angeles the night before Thanksgiving. He watched the wide highways lit up with the red and white lights of the cars below them as they landed; apparently that LA stereotype was very real. Once he got his luggage, he followed Harry’s directions out to a Range Rover where, to his surprise, he found Harry waiting behind the wheel.  

“Hey, you,” he called as he slid into the passenger seat. “I can’t believe you drove yourself. Isn’t LA traffic the worst?”

Harry shrugged as he turned the car on. “It’s not worse than London, and I like driving.”

“I’m excited to finally see your house.”

“I’m excited for you to see it. But first we’re going to my tailor.”

“Oh. Why?”

Harry’s smile was small and satisfied. “We’re getting you a suit for the premiere.”

“What?!” Louis sputtered. “Why? It’s not like anyone’s going to be taking pictures of me, right? I’ve got a suit already.”

“Oh, please, I’ve seen your suit. No, I don’t think you have to worry about pictures, but don’t you want to look nice for my premiere?” Harry pouted a little and looked at him with the saddest puppy-dog eyes that Louis had ever seen on his face.

“Oi, eyes on the road, please! And don’t even with those crocodile tears. Honestly,” Louis sighed. He still let Harry take him to the tailor, though.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s house was jaw-dropping.

It was so _absurdly_ large and everything about it was beautiful, from the Mission-style exterior to the massive windows to the beautiful tile work. It had an entire gym and a room that was practically a tiny movie theatre and a _pool._ It kind of made Louis want to cry, seeing such a massive place for a single person and thinking of a childhood of so many people crammed into such a small house, but it also made him want to cannonball into the pool and then find the most annoying music to put on the house’s sound system.

It also made him think crazy thoughts about things he probably shouldn’t, things like a big house on the edge of Boston where he could have an office and Harry could have a music room and there would be a big lawn for kids to play on.

He’d be better off jumping Harry’s bones rather than jumping into the pool; it would stop him thinking so much. So he did.

 

* * *

 

Louis woke up earlier than he usually would, thanks to jet lag. He took his tea and his laptop out to the garden, which was full of beautiful greenery even though it was November. It was a comfortable temperature, a little cool but not chilly, and he was soon immersed in his work.

He didn’t particularly notice the time passing until his stomach issued a loud growl. Startled, he realized that almost two hours had passed. He should go in search of food, and perhaps figure out where Harry was.

That question was answered as soon as he walked into the kitchen and saw Harry’s butt. Well, he saw all of Harry, but the bare ass was very eye-catching, so much so that it took him a minute to notice what Harry was actually doing.

“Are you kneading dough? Naked?!”

Harry looked over and grinned at him. “What’s the problem?”

“If a pube ends up in there, I swear to God.”

“Ew, no. It’s not like I’m rubbing my junk on it. Come on.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see,” Louis muttered. He filled the kettle up with water again because there was no such thing as too much tea in the morning. “So, wait, I’m sorry, I don’t think my brain has processed this. Are you _actually_ making bread right now?”

“Yeah, it’s fun. We have a family recipe for rolls that I like to make when I go to a Thanksgiving. It’s my thing.”

All the anxiety that he had held at bay through the morning’s work hit him in a rush. Thanksgiving. Right. Thanksgiving with _the Cordens,_ Harry said, like they were just the nice little family down the street. Like James wasn’t one of Harry’s oldest friends in the business; like meeting one of Harry’s best friends wouldn’t be intimidating at all.

He felt jittery the whole drive over that afternoon, and even more so when they pulled up to the house. It had a big fence and a gate; he reckoned it was probably about the same size as Harry’s home, though it was hard to tell.

The front door opened as they approached and James greeted them with a huge smile, practically the personification of the word “jolly.” His wife Julia was a narrow-faced blonde who immediately hugged Harry and offered her hand for Louis to shake. Not so reserved, James went for the hug right away with Louis. “So good to meet you,” he cried, stepping back and wiping a fake tear from his eye. “Never thought the day would come when our son would bring a boy home. We were sure he’d end up a spinster, dying alone, surrounded by cats.”

“Oh, fu–for Pete’s sake,” Harry groaned. “James, no.”

“That’s really no way to speak to your father, young man.” James winked at Louis.

Louis barely contained a giggle. If embarrassing Harry was the name of the game, he was absolutely ready to play, even if he didn’t really get the joke. He couldn’t see any risk of Harry being alone if he didn’t want to be. Nonetheless, he said, “Oh, you’d be a very charming spinster. Embroidering pictures of your cats, probably.”

Harry sighed dramatically. “I guess no one wants any of this beautiful fresh-baked bread, then.”

Julia smacked James lightly on the arm. “Don’t be mean to the man who brought bread, you idiot. Not until after it’s in the house, anyway.”

Their house was lovely, although in a different way from Harry’s. They had three children, after all, and there were signs of them all over the place: toys stashed in odd places, a forgotten little sock on the floor, chore charts in the kitchen.

The children all had American accents, to Louis’ surprise. “Yeah, we’ve been here for a few years, and the kids are just sponges. They tell us we talk funny,” James noted ruefully.

“Wow. That never occurred to me. I mean, _my_ kids will grow up in America,” Louis said with dawning horror. “Oh my god. Little Americans. That must be weird.”

Harry, who was stirring something on the stove, looked over with raised eyebrows and a little smile. Louis blushed. Oops. He tried to avoid that sort of talk with Harry. It was one of those things that made him conscious of the fact that Harry was younger than him. Louis was afraid that talking about kids would scare him off; plenty of twenty-six-year-old men weren’t ready to think about families yet. Harry looked more amused than upset, though.

“So you’re planning on staying here long-term?” Julia asked.

“Yeah. If I get tenure, I’ve got a job for life in Boston, so, that’s the plan.”

“Would you move, though? If you had an opportunity or decided you wanted to be somewhere else?”

“I don’t really see that happening,” Louis said slowly. “I was very lucky to get this position. Tenure track jobs don’t exactly grow on trees, and it’s my dream job. I can’t really imagine wanting to give that up. But I do know that changing jobs is _possible._ Not common or easy, but not impossible. So I guess if I had a reason _and_ the right opportunity came up?” He shrugged and made an effort not to glance at Harry, even though he felt like he was talking to him more than he was to Julia. “Who knows, right. But, no, I see myself being in Boston until I retire.”

Julia nodded. “I know what it's like. I never thought we’d live in Los Angeles. It’s a horribly long flight back to England from here. But the opportunities we’ve had here are amazing. It’s been worth it.”

Aside from a bit of interrogation, James and Julia were lovely. Their children were cute and clever, and their English-American Thanksgiving was surprisingly fun. After they ate, James showed him old pictures of Harry when he was fresh off the X Factor, spotty and awkward and adorable. Louis left with a full belly, a face that was sore from laughing and smiling so much, and the strange feeling that he could call James Corden a friend.

 

* * *

 

They spent a while on Friday driving around and seeing some LA sights, but by the afternoon they had to be back to Harry’s to get ready for the premiere. Louis was not prepared for the complexity of that operation. There was someone for makeup and someone for hair, and even Harry’s _suit_ had its own dedicated handler. On top of that, there were two assistants who seemed to exist entirely to take a single good picture to post on social media.

They insisted on styling him, too. Louis was sure he hadn’t worn makeup since the drama productions he’d been in at school. “No one will even be able to tell you’re wearing it,” the makeup artist promised him.

“Who cares? No one’s going to be taking my picture.”

She shrugged. “You’re handsome enough to be on the red carpet. Someone might take a photo just assuming that you must be famous if you look this good.”

He scoffed, but he felt rather pleased.

At the theater, he got to watch from the car as Harry stepped out onto the red carpet to shouts and cheers. It was strangely amazing to watch. Harry looked fantastic in his suit as he waved and blew kisses at the crowd. Louis was so proud. He got to watch for a short time until the car had to pull away, taking him to a separate entrance for guests and anyone who chose not to walk the red carpet.

The movie was a drama in which Harry had a supporting role as the protagonist’s brother. As far as Louis was concerned, Harry was the best thing about it and every scene without him was a scene wasted. It was good, though.

At the after party, Harry put his arm around Louis the moment they walked in the door. Louis whispered, “Aren’t there photographers here?”

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a private party. They’re not paparazzi. They don’t take pictures of things they’re not supposed to.”

So Louis walked through a room of movie stars with Harry’s arm around him. Harry steered him around to all of his costars, proudly introducing him as his boyfriend. Louis was giddy and probably too loud, but then so was Harry. There was hardly a moment of the party when they weren’t touching. It was brilliant.

 

* * *

 

The following week was a weird one. LA had been warm, beautiful, and exciting. His life was distinctly less glamorous and his flat was pathetic compared to Harry’s mansion. On top of that, the students were starting to get anxious about the end of the term and about the upcoming holidays. They stressed him out.

He felt exhausted by Friday morning, only to have to endure hours of meetings. Then late in the day, he had a small group of seniors for a seminar. It was a terrible time slot. The students were always squirrely and more interested in their weekend plans than they were in astrophysics.  They all felt that a class on a Friday after lunch was basically criminal. Privately, Louis agreed, but he didn’t control the schedule.

Even worse: apparently Harry’s most ardent fans had identified Louis in some pictures from the premiere last weekend, and one of his students decided that the start of the seminar was the appropriate time to ask him about it.

“My sister’s a makeup artist. Sometimes she gets me into events,” he told them. It wasn’t even a lie. He just prayed that they weren’t investigative enough to snoop on Lottie. She was prolific on social media and she definitely hadn’t been in California last weekend.

“Are you really friends with Harry Styles and Niall Horan, though?” she pressed.

“Okay, this isn’t media studies. The only medium we’re interested in here is the interstellar medium!”

The students groaned.

“Come on, that was funny. Fine, fine. Moving on. Okay, so let’s start with the Som et al paper. Who’s got something to say about it?”

After class, Louis slumped into his office chair with a heavy sigh. He desperately wanted a beer or a nap. Instead, he had to submit his grant application. It was due by midnight and it was always a pain the ass to make sure every box on every form was filled out just right.

He armed himself with a massive sugary coffee drink and even closed his office door to totally insulate himself from any distractions. The website had just loaded on his screen when someone knocked. He cursed under his breath before yelling, “I’m not here!”

“Louis, let me in!” a familiar voice called.

“Ah, what the fuck.” He shot up out of his chair and yanked the door. “What are you doing here? In the middle of the day?!”

Harry grinned at him, a sense of mischief clear even with his face half-hidden by big sunglasses, a floppy hat, and a thick scarf. “Surpriiiiise. Let me in before someone spots me.”

“You’re a madman,” Louis cried as he ushered Harry in and pushed the door shut. “What a ridiculous get-up. Why do I like you?”

Harry giggled and kissed him. Louis pulled him in close because, hell, sometimes a week felt like an awfully long time not to touch Harry. Eventually his curiosity overrode his desire to make out, though, and he broke the kiss. “Wait, so why are you here? We didn’t have anything planned.”

Harry smiled brightly and gave Louis’ waist a squeeze. “I have a surprise.”

“Okay…”

“So, I know you like musicals. And I also know you haven’t been to Broadway.”

Louis pulled back, eyebrows shooting up, suddenly very worried about where this was going.

“Well, my friend had tickets to Hamilton, and at the last minute something came up so he couldn’t go, and he asked if I wanted them, so I thought, I’ll take you!”

“Oh, so, not tonight!” Relief shot through him. “I mean, there’s not time to get New York.”

“Not unless you fly!” Harry announced proudly. “I’ve got it all figured out. There’s not really time to go out for dinner, so I’m having them bring us something to eat on the plane. I bet you’ve never been on such a small plane before. It’s so fun. So we’ll fly and go straight to the theater, pretty much. They’re _really_ good seats. Like, third row.”

“Oh, no.” Louis lurched forward to hide his face against Harry’s chest. “Noooo.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I _can’t,”_ Louis whined.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, sounding alarmed. “There wasn’t anything on your calendar. I checked.”

“I have to submit that grant proposal tonight. I absolutely have to, it’s due by midnight. Oh god, this is the most amazing surprise and the fact that I have to say no to it is the actual worst, oh my god, my soul hurts right now.”

“Didn’t you finish that like a week ago?”

“Yeah, but I still have to submit it.”

“Why didn’t you, if it was already done?”

Louis groaned loudly, muffled by Harry’s chest. “I thought if I suddenly realized I needed to change something, I still had it. And I hate dealing with that website and _maybe_ I put it off a _tiny_ bit. But mostly my intentions were pure!”

Harry sighed heavily. “Louis... Well, just submit it now.”

“I was about to!” Louis defended himself, pulling back to frown at Harry. “But it takes more than a minute. There’s forms I have to fill out. And I need to give it a last read-through just to make _sure_ I haven’t missed anything. How much time do we have?”

Harry glanced at the clock. “If we want to make the start of the show, we should leave here by, oh, twenty minutes from now?”

“That’s not enough time.” Louis started chewing on one of his fingernails. This _sucked._

“You’ve looked over it a million times, haven’t you? It’s fine, Louis. Just submit it,” Harry said soothingly.

“I can’t! This grant is too important,” Louis wailed.

“How about this,” Harry said slowly. “The flight takes about an hour. I’ll leave you in peace on the plane, and you can read through it one last time. Then we watch the show, and then we go straight back to the hotel, and you’ll still have an hour or two before the deadline, plenty of time to submit it.”

“Hotel wifi’s always shit, though.”

“Then I’ll pay extra for some business upgrade with faster internet, or we’ll go sit in the car and steal the public library wifi, or I’ll call up a friend who lives in New York and we’ll go to their flat! Louis, come on. This is so doable.”

“I guess it could work,” Louis conceded. “Oh, god, I really really want to go but this grant is _so_ important. If I get it, it’s my next two years of funding sorted. I can’t risk it.”

“I know, I know. But there’s no risk! The timeline works. It’ll be completely fine.”

“I mean, unless I find something absolutely massively wrong on my read-through.”

“Then I’ll take you straight to the hotel where you can fix it and we’ll see the show some other time.”

Louis’ heart pounded. This was a stupid, stupid risk, but it was so hard to argue with the excitement of a tiny plane to whisk them away, and third row seats at Hamilton _(third row seats at Hamilton?!),_ and Harry so pleased with his surprise, and Harry being so reasonable and sweet and thinking it all through for him. He wanted this so badly, and it really did seem doable. So he said, “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

The tiny edits he made to his proposal on the plane really didn’t justify him waiting so long to submit it. Oh, well. He shut his laptop decisively with fifteen minutes to go.

“Are you done?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Yep. All I need is half an hour with a good wifi connection and I’m all set.”

“Then let’s have champagne!”

So they drank champagne and made out for the duration of the flight, because that was obviously the thing to do when one’s lover whisked one away on a private plane. They finished off the bottle in the back of the car on the way to the theatre – absolutely ridiculous, but how could he turn it down when the opportunity presented itself?

The show was amazing, of course. Louis cried twice and he was fairly sure that Harry was right there with him. They got cocktails at intermission to calm their nerves and to steal napkins from the bar for tissues, which were very much needed during the second act.

Louis was maybe a bit tipsy when they stumbled into Harry’s hotel room after. He threw his arms around Harry’s neck as soon as they’d closed the door and sighed happily, “That was just amazing, just – everything about this evening. Thank you, thank you.”

Harry beamed, dimples creasing his cheeks. “Yeah? You had fun?”

“I mean, I’m a little bit emotionally devastated by Hamilton, but, yes, so much fun. The most fun. You’re so amazing. I’m so, so lucky.”

“Thank you for letting me.” Harry sounded soft and almost shy, and there was really nothing to do in the face of that but to kiss the hell out of him.

He was so hot suddenly, completely desperate for Harry. He slid his hands down Harry’s chest and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Lou, don’t you need to take care of that—”

“Shh, there’s plenty of time,” Louis said, nipping at Harry’s lower lip. “Let me. Please.”

 

* * *

 

Louis startled awake and shot upright. “Oh, no, no no no no no.” He knew, he just _knew._ He had no idea what time it was, but if he’d fallen asleep, it was surely too late.

Harry mumbled something. Louis ignored him completely as he raced to the suite’s living room, where he pulled his laptop from its bag and frantically started it up. The clock read 12:42 AM, _motherfuck,_ but maybe, maybe they hadn’t shut down the form yet, maybe he still could make it. He refreshed the grant submission page. In place of the login form, there were three stark words: _Submissions are closed._

“Oh my god.” Panic clawed at his insides as he stared at the screen. “No, no, this can’t be happening.” He rocked in place and suddenly he was freezing cold, suddenly aware that he wasn’t even wearing anything while his future fell to pieces.

“Louis?” Harry was pale in the dim light. “Oh god, Louis, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“This is a disaster. How could I do this?”

“I’m sure it’ll be all right,” Harry said fretfully. He put a hand on Louis’ shoulder and moved like he was going to sit down by him.

Louis knocked his hand away and glared up at him. “Don’t touch me, do _not_ touch me right now.”

“Lou—I’m sorry–”

“You’re _sorry?_ This is my career, this is my life!” Louis threw his hands in the air before pulling desperately at his hair. “I knew this was a bad idea, I knew it. Why did I let you talk me into this? Why am I such an idiot, why do I let you make me act like an idiot?”

Harry’s twisted his hands together restlessly. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. There must be a way to get an extension, or—”

“You don’t know anything about it,” Louis interrupted. “You can’t fix this. Just stop!”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed; then he just stared uncertainly. It only made Louis angrier.

He dropped his face into his hands with a heavy sigh. “Just leave me alone. I can’t deal with you right now.”

“Oh. Okay,” Harry said in a tiny voice. “If that’s what you need. I-I’ll be in the bedroom? Um. I’m really sorry, Lou.”

Louis didn’t react. After a moment, he heard soft footfalls and then a door closing.

He sat like that for a long time until he knew he could move without screaming or breaking something. He thought about raiding the minibar and getting truly smashed, but then he’d be drunk and angry and still stuck in New York City with Harry. What he really needed to do was get out of there.

It was fortunate that they’d tossed most of their clothes off as soon as they’d gotten in the door. Louis couldn’t find one of his socks, but that was okay. It wasn’t essential. He packed his bag back up as quietly as he could and scribbled a hasty note to Harry, telling him not to worry and not to call him, to give him time. Then he requested a taxi and left the room silently, easing the door open and closed so it didn’t make a sound. If he was lucky, maybe there would still be a train from New York to Boston at this hour. He just needed to be anywhere else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to keep the grant stuff as vague as possible but sorry about any inaccuracies! 
> 
> Don't worry, next chapter coming very soon! :)


	6. Chapter 6

After missing his grant deadline and fighting with Harry, Louis’ weekend was truly miserable.

He spent hours in Penn Station and then even more hours on a train, through the wee hours of the night and into the morning. He realized once he was ensconced in an uncomfortable train station chair that he was still sex-sticky and he smelled a little, while his eyes were burning with a mixture of exhaustion and unshed tears. He couldn’t forget the cherry on top of it all: the fact that he might have just ruined his career. It was basically the walk of shame from hell.

He collapsed on the couch as soon as he was home. When he woke up, he just started drinking, because what else was there to do?

Harry called half a dozen times before he finally texted asking Louis to at least let him know that he was home safely. Louis replied with a curt _yes,_ then turned off his phone and opened a bottle of vodka.

It took him some time the next morning to drag his aching self from bed. Once he confirmed that he hadn’t drunk-dialed anyone the night before, he dedicated the rest of his day to hiding under a pile of blankets and watching movies. He couldn’t think about Harry until he figured out whether he could salvage the grant situation, and he couldn’t do that until Monday, so he tried not to think at all.

 

* * *

 

It took Louis almost an hour on Monday morning to even find a phone number he could call about the missed grant proposal. Apparently that office did _not_ want to hear from anyone. The first person he got scoffed at him and all but called him an idiot. He had to beg and put up with being transferred around until someone could actually help him. He lied a bit then, but he felt like he was only stretching the truth: something unexpected came up, a family emergency, and then trouble getting internet access, and he hadn’t been able to submit it by midnight, but the proposal had been done already, he could prove it.

There was a lot of heavy sighing and typing and then finally, her tone clearly begrudging, the woman on the other end of the line said that he could e-mail it to her and she’d get it in the system. “You’re not going to get another chance to do this,” she said severely. “We keep notes. Now, we haven’t started reviewing yet, so your proposal will go in with the others and have a fair shot. Look, I know that emergencies happen, but that’s why you should’ve submitted this with plenty of time to spare instead of waiting until the last minute. Don’t do it again.”

Louis thanked her abjectly and profusely before hanging up the phone with shaking hands. His eyes prickled with tears and his chest felt painfully tight. He couldn’t cry, not now, not here at work with a full day of responsibilities ahead of him. He wiped at his eyes and tried to breathe evenly through the lump in his throat. “Everything’s fine,” he whispered to himself. “Get on with it.”

He should have felt euphoric that the problem was solved. Somehow, all he wanted to do was cry.

He was tense and miserable all day; he ended up going home early. With a takeaway and a football match on the telly, he could finally relax and let it sink in that he hadn’t actually ruined his life. He still couldn’t stop kicking himself over missing that deadline, though – and for letting Harry make him miss that deadline.

That was the crux of it, really. True, he should have submitted the grant proposal sooner, but he wouldn’t have actually missed it if it weren’t for Harry. Could he be disciplined enough, focused enough, dedicated to his work enough when Harry was in the picture? He had sacrificed so much to get where he was. He couldn’t let that all slip through his fingers for a _boyfriend._

But—Harry. Harry wasn’t just some guy. He was so wonderful. He was kind and thoughtful and funny and clever and handsome and—everything.

Louis couldn’t resolve it, this question of whether he could really be with Harry.

Harry, who was famous and who traveled the world and who could turn Louis’ life upside-down with a word.

Harry, whom he loved.

That thought almost made him drop his dinner. No, no, no. _That_ was not an okay thought. They hadn’t said that to each other. Louis hadn’t even thought it before, not in so many words. There wasn’t any reason why _now—_ he was probably just being dramatic.

His stomach twisted. No. He just couldn’t be with Harry – there was too much at stake. They had to break up. But how could he break up with Harry if he loved him?

 

* * *

 

Louis spent the week in a fog. It was as if he was never fully present because a corner of his mind was always wrestling with this problem. A thousand times, he told himself that he just needed to break up with Harry and put an end to this. Then he’d pick up his phone and instantly feel sick and awful. He knew what he needed to do but he couldn’t. It was misery.

The days ticked slowly by without resolution. The only time his phone buzzed with a message was when his mother texted about Christmas plans. Harry hadn’t said anything since Saturday, when he had asked if Louis was okay, and then – after Louis turned off his phone – said he would wait to hear from him. Louis was relieved that Harry was actually respecting his request for space, of course. He knew he had asked for that. Still, though, after a week, he started to worry. Was it so easy for Harry to let him go? Louis didn’t think he would have been able to hold back if the situation were reversed.

Maybe Harry was already moving on. Maybe moving on from Louis was easy.

Logic pointed out that Harry had literally bought property in Boston to be close to him. Doubt said that that was easy for Harry; it was nothing.

On Sunday, his phone actually rang. He lurched up from the couch and fumbled for it, but stilled when he saw the name on the screen. Why was Niall calling?

He accepted the call. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Man, what did you do? Did you break up with Harry?”

“Shit.” He definitely didn’t expect that. “Um. Sort of? Why? Did he tell you that?”

“He just seemed kind of down the last time I saw him, so I asked him about you to try to get him in a better mood, but that just made him even _more_ sad. He didn’t really tell me anything, but, obviously something happened. So: what did you _do?”_

Louis rubbed his forehead and sighed. “I don’t know if we’re technically broken up, but I, ugh, I think we will.”

It hurt to say it out loud. The words nearly stuck in his throat.

“Why?” Niall yelped. “You two always seem, like, perfect for each other. You’re sickeningly in love.”

“We’re not in—in love. I mean, I like him so much, but, I’m sure he could do better than me. I can’t imagine how he’d really be happy with me long-term anyway.”

“Are you kidding me? You haven’t heard the way he talks about you, man. Open your eyes, Louis! _You’re_ the one he’s crazy about.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

Niall scoffed. “Mate, he’s really obvious about it. I do know.”

“Sounds fake, but okay. But I mean, aside from that, our lives are just totally incompatible. I can’t be, like, following him around the world and flying out to be at his events and stuff all the time.”

“Is he asking you to?”

“I mean, he’s not asking me to follow him around, but he does like it when I come visit him and things like that. Which has been okay, but I always feel like I’m not doing enough. And like I tie him down, that he has to keep coming to Boston instead of all the places he’d rather be.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s not!” Louis snapped.

“You’re just making this so much harder than it has to be. Yeah, this lifestyle involves being apart sometimes. And yeah, if you want to be with him long term, you kind of have to be okay with that. But almost all of the musicians I know, their partners don’t follow them around, and no one expects that, because it’s crazy to expect someone not to have their own life. I mean, is Harry asking you to give up your job for him or something?”

“No, no. He’s never said anything like that.” Louis sighed heavily. “I just feel bad about it. My career is really important to me. I wouldn’t ever ask him to give his up either. I just don’t see how it can work.”

“It can, man. I’ve seen it. You can make it work,” Niall said, surprisingly gently.

 

* * *

 

Louis wanted to believe Niall, but he just wasn’t sure. In the wake of their conversation, though, it was harder to deny how much he missed Harry. He _wanted_ their relationship to be able to work.

A few days later, he still couldn’t resolve it. Niall had sounded so confident but he didn't understand what it was like to be in Louis' profession. He needed to talk to someone who would understand his perspective.

He called Zayn and explained the whole situation to him: the weekends away, the fear of being known to the public, and, the clincher, the disaster of missing the grant deadline. He concluded, “Yeah, I really, really, really like him, but, how can we be together? The grant thing was fixable, but what if the next thing that goes wrong isn’t? Do you see what I mean?”

“Let me clarify. So you could have submitted this grant well in advance of the deadline, but instead you left it to the last minute.”

“…Yes.”

“And you’re blaming your boyfriend for that.”

“Well, no, but I’m blaming him for distracting me in the critical moment. And I’m saying it could happen again, and—”

“Then don’t let it happen again! Dude, you’re an idiot for not just submitting your proposal as soon as it was done. You leave things to the last minute, anything can go wrong. If you’d gotten hit by a car that day and broken your leg and missed your deadline, would you have sworn off crossing streets? No, because that’s dumb.”

“That’s a terrible analogy. That’s not the same at all.”

“It’s also not like he forced you to come to a show with him. I mean, set a ‘no surprises’ rule in the future if you need to. You know? Boundaries. They’re a thing.”

“Huh.” That was actually a reasonable point. “But what about the weekends away? Because to be a good partner, I do kind of have to go see him sometimes. And I like to, but it’s stressful, too, taking the time off.”

“You do understand that it’s not illegal to take weekends off, right? It’s probably good. I mean, in this job, we can’t really draw a sharp line between work time and private time, but you do need to take breaks and not exhaust yourself and actually have a life. A lot of people have responsibilities that take up their free time and they still get tenure. The fact that he’s famous is weird, I’ll give you that, but the rest of it is just life, man. I mean, you want to be with him, right?”

“I sort of do,” Louis admitted. “No, I do. I just feel like I shouldn’t want to.”

Zayn laughed. “Well, that’s just stupid.”

 

* * *

 

Later, Louis asked Liam out for a drink to get his opinion, too. When he told the story, he left out the bit about missing the grant proposal deadline. He didn’t want to admit that to someone in his department. He focused more on the difficulties of being in a long-distance relationship and the fact that the other party was famous. “It just seems… insurmountable.”

Liam frowned. “That seems kind of extreme.”

“What do you mean?” Louis said defensively.

“It’s not curing cancer, man. Between the two of you, you have _so_ much brainpower and money to throw at this problem. If you really love each other, then surely you can figure it out.”

“I don’t know if he loves me,” Louis said. He blushed and tried to hide it by taking a drink. That was maybe a little personal for coworker chat. He hurried on, “And it’s just, my career is so important to me. I’ve worked so hard. I’ve missed important stuff in my family’s lives for this. How can I possibly risk it _now,_ just for a guy?”

“I don’t think he’s ‘just some guy’ to you, though.” Liam sipped his beer and seemed to hesitate before he said, “Look, there are a lot of lonely people in academia. Lots of people who thought like you, and they’re alone. And when I think of the people I really admire, people who have accomplished great things?  Plenty of them have partners and even kids. I know women who _had babies_ while they were up for tenure and they still made it. If that’s possible, I’m pretty sure you can manage to have a boyfriend.”

“Maybe those people are just better than me.”

Liam laughed. “Well, maybe. But, you know. I feel like you’re just looking at the negatives of having a partner. But there are also all the upsides of having someone to talk to, someone who can get you some dinner when you’ve had a super long week, and, you know, just… being happy. That has real value. And, I don’t mean to be crass, but he’s rich. That could really remove some stress from your life.”

“I’m not dating him for his money. That’s never been what it’s about.”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Obviously. I’m just saying that if you were in a serious committed relationship, there are going to be some benefits. I know people say relationships are work and all that, but obviously there are reasons they’re worth the work, right? Because overall, people feel like they make their lives better.”

Louis sat back heavily. “I really thought everyone would tell me that I’m right and I should break up with Harry so nothing can jeopardize my career.”

“Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t know.”

“If that’s really what you want, I can’t say you’re wrong. It’s your decision; you know yourself. I just think you’re looking at it like it’s either-or, when from where I’m sitting, it seems like you can have both.”

Louis traced his finger through the condensation on the side of his glass. Wistfully, he asked, “You really think so?”

“Yep. I honestly don't see why not.”

 

* * *

 

Harry hadn’t removed Louis’ access to his Google calendar. His schedule showed him in the UK for the next few weeks – London for about a week, then to his hometown for Christmas. Louis reckoned that he shouldn’t keep leaving the state for reading days, but this time, it seemed like the right choice.

He couldn’t just show up unannounced, though. He didn’t even know where Harry’s London house actually was. He needed to call him.

Instead, he stared at his phone and chewed on his fingernails, thinking of all the ways it could go wrong. By the time his nails were bitten down to nothing, he felt no more ready to talk to Harry. He reluctantly took up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and hit call.

“Louis? What’s up?” Niall answered.

“I need you to ask Harry a question for me.”

“What is this, primary school? Ask him yourself.”

“I’m too scared. I can’t do it. Please, Niall. I’ll… I’ll buy _all_ your beers the next time we go out together.”

Niall sighed. “You’re an idiot. I’m listening.”

 

* * *

 

Louis hired a car at Heathrow. It was cheaper than a taxi to and from Harry’s house. Plus, if it went terribly wrong, he’d be able to just leave.

It was raining when he landed, because, well, it was London in December. He wasn’t used to driving on the left anymore, the car’s windshield wipers weren’t great, and he was already tired. His whole body went tense the moment he hit the road and the feeling only got worse from there. He wasn’t sure if it was the journey that had him feeling so stressed or his fear of what awaited him once he arrived. By the time he pulled up in front of Harry’s gate, his stomach was in knots and he stank of stress-sweat.

He could only barely see the house behind the winding driveway and the screen of plants. In summer, the house wouldn’t be visible at all. Even now, there were plenty of evergreens for year-round privacy. It looked unwelcoming under the grey sky. He shouldn’t have come, he thought anxiously. Or he should at least have eaten, or taken a nap beforehand, or something. Was it too late to reschedule? He hadn’t called or hit the buzzer on the gate; Harry didn’t know he was here yet.

Except that there came Harry stomping down the drive. He lifted a phone to his ear and Louis’ mobile started ringing.

He scrambled to answer it. “Um, hi.”

“Are you coming in or what?” Harry asked sharply. He pressed something in his hand and the gate slid open.

“Oh... yeah. Sorry.”

So much for running away.

He let the car roll along slowly, following Harry. Tension was evident in every line of Harry’s body, in his stiff movements and his clenched fists. Louis’ stomach sank. He was wrong to be here. Harry was clearly unhappy about it.

Harry gestured to an open garage, allowing Louis to park and exit the car without getting wet. The thoughtfulness of the gesture threw him off. Harry was obviously angry but he was still being kind. That was just Harry, he supposed.

Then it was just the two of them in Harry’s garage, closer than they’d been in weeks. Harry was damp from the rain and frowning at him. “Your car was out there for ages. Were you thinking of not even coming after all?”

“No, not really.” Louis ran a hand through his hair. “I was just tired and nervous. I came straight here from the airport.”

Harry frowned at him a bit longer, studying his face, before he nodded and led Louis into the house. They went into a mudroom where Harry shed his coat and then into a large, bright kitchen. “What can I get you? Tea? Wine? Something to eat?”

“Just tea, I suppose.”

There was only silence for a few minutes. Harry made tea while Louis leaned against a counter with his hands in his pockets. He glanced around at the kitchen, mostly to avoid staring at Harry, but there wasn’t much to hold his attention. Finally, Harry passed him a mug and murmured, “Come on, the living room’s this way.”

This was a much more interesting room – there were some large pieces of art on the walls and framed pictures on shelves. Louis settled on the sofa and looked around curiously. _Focus,_ he told himself. He knew what he meant to say but he couldn’t get himself to open his mouth and do it.

Harry broke the silence first. “You didn’t have to come all this way just to break up with me.”

“I didn’t…” Louis looked at him and swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “Is that what you want?”

Harry bit his lip and didn’t say anything. Louis flushed with disappointment and hot shame – how stupid he had been to believe Niall – and stood. “I’ll just—I’ll go.”

“Lou, wait.” Harry’s voice cracked on the words. He grabbed Louis firmly around the wrist, holding him back. “Don’t. Please. Tell me what you came here to say.”

Harry’s cheeks were pink, his eyes wide and pleading, but for what? For Louis to fix this, or to end it and set him free? Did Harry want him to expose his heart just so he could crush it? He had never been cruel before, but people who were hurt could do strange things.

There wasn’t much to lose, though. It wasn’t like he’d ever run into Harry on the street after this. Harry wouldn’t gossip to anyone who knew Louis, aside from Niall, maybe. He _could_ take this and put it in a song, and that would be awful, but Louis could stop listening to the radio for the next decade. He didn’t _have_ to go into businesses that would play music. You could get everything online these days, even groceries. He’d subscribe to one of those mail-order meal services and never go anywhere except work and home. It would be fine.

He sat heavily. Harry didn’t let go of his am.

“Okay. Okay, so.” He closed his eyes. He’d managed to forget what he was going to say, too caught up in imagining Harry’s future break-up song about them. “Um. Right. So first of all, I’m sorry for getting so angry with you. I really should have submitted my proposal earlier, and I shouldn’t have gotten drunk that night, and, yeah. So I’m sorry for blaming you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“Yeah. And, um. I’m sorry for just being so scared. I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want, and how I—how I feel about you.” He sighed sharply. He couldn’t even look at Harry, so afraid of his reaction. He was distantly aware that he was shaking. “This probably doesn’t matter now. It’s probably not what you want. But what I came here to say was that—that _I_ want to stop worrying about how we can possibly make this work and just do it. I want to throw caution to the wind and stop holding back and I want it to work because I love you.”

“Oh,” Harry breathed. “That’s what you came here to say?”

Too nervous to speak, Louis nodded.

Harry lunged forward and kissed him.

It was passionate and graceless and delicious. Louis gasped in relief and shock, and Harry took advantage, licking into Louis’ mouth. Harry kissing him felt like a miracle. Louis’ head was spinning and he wondered how he’d thought he could live without this.

By the time he managed to pull back, they were somehow all tangled together; his hand was in Harry’s hair and Harry was practically in his lap. He took a shaky breath and asked, “Does this mean you don’t hate me forever?”

“No! God, I thought you were coming here to break up with me,” Harry said, pressing a kiss to Louis’ face like he couldn’t stand to be even inches away from him. “Do you really mean it?”

Louis carded his fingers through Harry’s soft hair and silently hoped he wouldn’t have to let go of him for the next twenty-four hours or so. “Yes, of course. All of it. I’m kind of crazy about you. I honestly don’t know how we go about building a life together but I really, really want to. Is that too much? I just mean—”

“It’s not too much. It’s just right.” Harry nuzzled his face against Louis’ neck and whispered there, “I love you, too. So much. I was gutted when you left.”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I was an idiot.”

Harry shook his head. “You were upset.”

“You’re too good to me.”

“Nah.” Harry kissed Louis’ neck. One of his hands slid up under his shirt. “I’ll keep trying, though.”

Louis shivered. Harry’s hand was so big and warm against his skin. “Hazza…”

“Let me take you to bed?”

He gasped as Harry’s lips locked on to his neck and sucked at the skin. He still felt shaky and near tears, but Harry in his arms felt like stable ground. “Oh, god. Yes, please.”

Harry sucked on Louis’ neck until he gasped, until he pushed Harry back with a stern, “Jesus, Harry, I have students on Monday.”

“Wear a scarf.” Harry unfolded himself from Louis’ lap and stood, offering a hand.

“Seriously?” Louis let Harry pull him up and along through the house.

Harry grinned cheekily at him. “It’s winter, it’ll be fine.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You like it. Here, this is my room.”

It was surprisingly different from his Los Angeles house. This bedroom – though still far larger than any room in Louis’ apartment – was comparatively small and cozy. The king-sized bed was unmade, a corner of the duvet thrown back. There were photographs on the dresser and art on the walls, big works of pencil on paper. He wondered what they all meant to Harry, these things that he kept in his most intimate space.

“Aren’t they all your rooms?” Louis teased.

“Well, this is where the bed is, smartass.” Harry stripped off his shirt in one fluid motion and then reached for Louis’. Louis lifted his arms to make it easy, then wrapped himself around Harry, pressing their bodies together. Harry cupped his face and kissed him deeply, gently, like he was something precious. Even if he was a commitment-phobic, workaholic smartass.

Louis ran his hands up and down Harry’s back. He was warm and strong and soft; he felt perfect in Louis’ arms. In that moment, all he wanted was to hold Harry, to feel close to him, to feel loved.

God. Harry _loved_ him. Harry loved _him._ The thought ran through him like an electric shock, squeezing at his heart, strange and wonderful.

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just… really happy. Can’t quite believe this.”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “What do you mean?”

“Just—everything,” Louis laughed. “That you haven’t dumped me yet, that you wanted me back, that I dramatically flew to London to try to win you back, that you ever wanted me in the first place. All of it.”

Harry swayed slightly in Louis’ arms, rocking them from side to side. “It’s weird that you don’t know what a catch you are.”

The amazing thing was that it sounded like the truth when Harry said it.

“Come on.” Harry tugged him toward the bed. He sat on the edge and started unbuttoning Louis’ trousers. He kissed Louis’ belly as he tugged the trousers down, mouthing at his body, taking his time. His lips drifted lower, kissing down to Louis’ hip, but just when Louis thought his cock might get some attention, Harry sat back and started pulling off his own trousers.

“Tease,” Louis murmured, settling onto the bed and kissing Harry’s neck. Harry kicked his pants free, not denying it.

Both of them naked now, Louis gently pushed Harry down on the bed and straddled him, grinding down slowly against him as they kissed. They both moaned at the sensation. Louis sighed, “I want you.”

“You’ve got me,” Harry said, squeezing Louis’ ass. “I want you inside me.”

“What, already? I had the impression that you were taking this slow,” Louis teased.

“Don’t judge me for wanting you.” He pulled down on Louis’ ass, pulling them hard against each other.

“Never, babe.” Louis kissed him quickly. “Where’s your lube?”

Harry twisted to the side to pull open a drawer of his nightstand and pull out a bottle. He wasted no time pumping some out onto his hand and reaching out to slick up Louis’ cock.

“Seemed like you were really taking it slow a few minutes ago,” Louis pointed out again.

“I changed my mind.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Louis said, taking a bit of lube and sliding a finger into Harry. Harry’s body yielded to him so easily; he didn’t really need any prep. Louis fingered him for a minute mostly for the sake of listening to Harry protest and beg for it. He couldn’t resist for long, though. It wasn’t exactly a hardship to give Harry what he wanted.

When he finally slid into Harry, he did it slowly, kissing him the whole time. Harry always made the prettiest noises, little gasps and moans as he adjusted to Louis inside him. Louis gave it to him in long, measured strokes that had Harry feeling every inch of him. Harry finally got impatient and hurried him along by hooking his legs around Louis’ waist and pulling. Louis chuckled but he picked up the pace like Harry wanted.

“Can we change positions? Me on top?” Harry asked after a while.

“Of course, love.” They rolled over, Louis managing to stay inside even as Harry shifted around to straddle him. That was always a fun trick.

Harry set a quick pace. Louis loved it when he did this, taking charge and using Louis’ body just how he wanted. Being inside Harry always, always felt amazing, but this added a little something extra. He ran his hands up Harry’s legs, up his body, admiring every piece of him. He was so incredibly gorgeous. Louis moaned and blurted out, “I love you.”

Harry beamed at him and moved his hips in some marvelous way that made Louis groan. “I love you, too.”

Louis pulled his face down and kissed him, long and deep, because if they were having sappy lovey sex then he was damned well going to get as many kisses as he could. He eventually had to let Harry go so they could both gasp for breath. Drunk on love or sex or maybe just Harry, he found himself saying, “Want you forever.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, fond and breathless. He pushed himself up and started riding Louis in earnest then. Louis started jerking him off. Harry shuddered as soon as Louis’ hand wrapped around him. “Oh god, yes, please.”

It didn’t take long then until Harry was coming across Louis’ stomach and chest, mouth open in a silent shout, and it didn’t take long for Louis to follow suit, thrusting up and coming inside Harry before going limp, chest heaving.

Harry let himself fall on top of Louis and kissed his cheek. “Love you, Lou.”

“Love you so much,” Louis sighed happily. He lay there for a minute, trying to catch his breath. “Are we going to be that kind of couple, then? Sickeningly gooey and always saying ‘I love you’ and driving our friends crazy?”

Harry laughed, tucking his face up against Louis’ neck, and said, “Yes, definitely.”

 

* * *

 

They dozed for a while before finally cleaning off. Harry organized some more tea and snacks for them and they settled back into bed with all of it. Louis felt wonderfully decadent.

Harry started speaking softly. “So, earlier, you were talking like… something was going to change? Like, you said, not worrying anymore and just doing it? What did you mean by that?”

“Hmm? Oh, I don’t know, really. I mean.” Louis chuckled. “I seem to recall getting mad at you for not looping me in on something you sort of did for us, with the flat? Be a bit hypocritical of me to roll in here with some grand plan now. ”

With a little huff of a laugh, Harry conceded, “Okay, maybe.”

“Plus I thought you might not want me back. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. But, just, like. We figured out how to date. I want to figure out how to be in a committed relationship with you. I don’t know where to start but I reckon we’ll figure it out together. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah. Yeah, absolutely.” Harry stroked Louis’ arm gently and cleared his throat. “Uh, one thing on my mind. I’ve felt like you didn’t want people to know about us. You said you couldn’t imagine telling your colleagues. You didn’t even want me to meet your friends.”

“What? I never said I didn’t want you to meet my friends.”

“When your friend Zayn was in town? And even though I was too, you didn’t invite me out with you?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to come.”

Harry made a skeptical noise. “If that was the case, you could’ve just asked.”

Louis traced one of Harry’s tattoos with his finger, a distraction to counter his argumentative impulse. He didn’t want to argue, really. He just wanted to be right.

“What are you doing on Sunday?” he asked.

Harry’s shoulder moved under Louis’ head in a shrug. “Some Christmas shopping, maybe.”

“Oh. Never mind, then. That sounds important.”

“Hey. Never mind what?”

Louis swallowed down a frisson of anxiety. “Well, there’s a faculty holiday party. You could come.”

Harry’s hand on his arm went still. “Don’t say that if you don’t mean it because I absolutely will call your bluff.”

“I do mean it. If it blows up in your face, I’m not taking responsibility for it, though. It’s a bunch of awkward scientists, you know. Anything could happen.”

“I’ll take that chance,” Harry laughed. He leaned in for a kiss. “And what are you doing for Christmas? Are you coming to England?”

“Yeah, like always. I can’t believe I’m flying to England twice in a month.”

“Welcome to my life. Well, I’ll be around too, so. You could come meet my family?” Harry asked tentatively.

“Oh! Okay, yeah.” Strangely, although the thought was a little scary, it was also exciting. He had heard plenty about Harry’s family, and they sounded so lovely. He’d already met Harry’s sister anyway. “Well, my family will love to meet you, I’m sure. I think almost all of my sisters had a phase of being obsessed with your band, so, they’ll probably lose their minds a little.”

Harry giggled and kissed him again. “It’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.”

“I admire your optimism.” Louis heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Anything else?”

“Will you let me buy us a house in Boston now? Some place with lots of room for both of us that I don’t have to sneak in and out of?”

“What? No,” Louis said immediately. “That’s absurd. No way.”

“It’s not absurd. It’s sensible.”

“Oh, sure, just buying real estate on a whim is definitely sensible.” Louis ran his hands down Harry’s chest and took a moment to admire him, his beautiful body, the lines of his tattoos, his wild hair, his bright smile. Then he let his hands slide lower. “Can we stop talking now? I think I’m getting a second wind.”

Harry laughed. “Okay. For now. But I’m going to get my way. You just wait.”

“Shut up,” Louis said, and kissed him.


	7. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a stronger person than me to resist a fluffy epilogue.

Louis sat on the floor surrounded by half-assembled furniture parts, screws, instructions, and other assorted bits and pieces. He really needed another set of hands to hold the back of the dresser up while he screwed the sides on, but he was alone. Of course, he had only himself to blame for this predicament. He could have bought a much fancier dresser at some posh boutique for ten times the price and had it delivered all in one piece. It would have been easy. He liked putting something together himself, though. It made him feel capable and independent.

Not that he had made it from scratch or anything. It was from Target. But still. He _was_ going to put it together himself. He might not be a mega-rich rock star like his spouse but he could still contribute to their home life.

His phone rang.

He set down the side of the dresser with a sigh and tugged the phone over. His eyebrows shot up when he realized that it was a Facetime call from Harry’s hairstylist. Harry was in the middle of a concert in Australia  – why was Lena calling him?

Louis hastily picked up the call. “Hey, Lena, what’s up? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, don’t worry!” She smiled at him. “Harry just wanted you to see the next song. I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh, okay.” He was still confused, but he supposed it would become clear. Harry did like his surprises. He’d never done anything like the Boston flat incident or the Broadway trip again, but on rare occasions he still slipped into old habits and forgot to mention something important. Generally, though, when something surprising came from Harry, it was _meant_ to be a surprise – at least where Louis was concerned.

Lena pointed her camera at the stage. Harry was currently in the middle of one of his rock-and-roll anthems that always got the crowd moving. Louis grinned involuntarily as Harry pranced around the stage. He ended the song to raucous cheers and put the microphone back in its stand. Louis could feel himself smiling as Harry stood there, basking in the applause, hamming it up like always. God, Louis missed him. This last leg of the tour was their longest separation; they hadn’t seen each other in five weeks.

Harry finally turned away from the audience and grabbed his acoustic guitar off its stand. He stepped back to the mic and motioned for silence. “I have something new for you tonight, Perth **.** I hope you like it. I wrote this song on this tour and I’d like to share it with you now.” He waited a bit for the screams to quiet down. “This song is for – well, I haven’t properly met one of them yet, but two people I love and miss very much.”

There was more screaming, even louder this time. All Louis could do was shake his head and laugh helplessly. _Harry._ He loved secrets and surprises but he loved being a big sap even more. The fans already knew about him and Louis – they’d never made an announcement and they still kept it out of the media, but it was an open secret at this point – so that was all right. But alluding to the baby? That _was_ meant to be an actual secret. Louis would be annoyed except that it was so fucking adorable how incredibly can’t-shut-up-about-it happy Harry was.

Harry gestured again for quiet. Then, when it was as still as a stadium ever got, he strummed his guitar and started singing.

“If I could fly, I’d be coming right back home to you. I think I might…”

It was a beautiful, somber song, full of love and longing. He didn’t say anything that Louis didn’t already know, but there was something new and powerful about him putting it into a song and singing it in front of thousands of people.

When the song was over and Lena had hung up, Louis took a selfie of himself crying and flipping off the camera and sent it to Harry. He would understand it.

Louis took a break for tea and tissues and then he got back to building the dresser.

Harry rang an hour later. He was still in his concert outfit when he appeared on the screen. “Did you hear it, Lou? Lena said she reached you?”

“Yeah. That was amazing, Harry. It was really, really beautiful. I’m only crying because of the pregnancy hormones.”

Harry rolled his eyes even as he smiled fondly. Louis insisted on keeping the joke going even though he knew it had gotten old months ago. A surrogate was carrying their baby but he could still get emotional over it if he wanted to.

“You wrote that on tour?”

“Mm-hmm. A couple months ago? I wasn’t sure if I would share it but it felt right.”

“Well. It was really special,” Louis said softly. “I love you a lot, you big sap.”

“I love you too.”

“I know, you just told me for like three minutes straight.”

Harry giggled. They just looked at each other for a minute before Harry asked, “So what are you up to? Anything exciting?”

Louis flipped the phone camera around to show the dresser. It didn’t have drawers yet but the frame itself was finally in one piece. “I put together the dresser for the nursery.”

“Oh, Lou,” Harry said, his voice suddenly thick. “Look at that. Two more months.”

“We’ve been getting all these packages. I reckon they’re baby gifts. I’ve been waiting to open them with you.”

Harry wiped at his eyes and laughed. “God, just like that, I’m a mess. I can’t wait to be home—”

“Don’t think like that, you should enjoy tour. You love being on tour.”

“I am enjoying it. I’m just excited.” He smiled softly. “I’ll be home in a few weeks, and then that committee will meet and you’ll finally officially have tenure, and then we’re going to have a _baby._ I just can’t wait.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m trying _not_ to think about the tenure committee. That’s why I’m building baby furniture first thing in the morning.”

“Sorry. But you’ll get it. I know you will. Everyone thinks so. It’s all going to be so great, Lou.”

Louis held the phone close to his face and kissed at it with loud smacking noises while Harry giggled. Against all odds, against all his fears, it was all working out. He was beyond excited for what the next few months would hold, and the next years, and the decades to come, with him and Harry together through it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I really hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Feel free to say hi on [tumblr](https://fakedeepplantjerker.tumblr.com/). There's a rebloggable post [here](https://fakedeepplantjerker.tumblr.com/post/172962593825/caught-my-attention-by-kassio)!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3 Rebloggable post is [here](https://fakedeepplantjerker.tumblr.com/post/172962593825/caught-my-attention-by-kassio) if you're into that!


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